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notjustjavierpena · 2 months

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Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia: Chapter I

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Here it is. I have been working hard on this chapter for you, plotting out the little details that will hopefully connect beautifully with the coming chapters. I hope you like my take on Marcus Acacius, and I hope you will be patient and follow along ❤️💖 I hope you enjoy the effort I’ve put into making this somewhat historically accurate!

Chapter Summary: In which you meet your future husband, get a warning from an old friend and explore pleasure on your own - all the while tension grows in Rome.

Pairing: General Marcus Acacius x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Chapter warnings: +18, arranged marriage, historical sexism, probably historical inaccuracies, large age gap, reference to marital SA but no actual SA, religion in the form of Roman Gods, talk about virginity, intense kissing, f!masturbation involving shame and guilt.

Word count: 7k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57443332/chapters/146141770

Chapter I: In these tumultuous times

You step through the atrium with a pulse that might break your ribs, too nervous to enjoy the marvel of the glorious marble construction that envelops you in near gold-speckled white. Neither can you fascinate yourself in the grandeur of the peristyle garden that you eventually find yourself in, green and luscious with well-tended plants that have no other purpose other than being beautiful - much like you.

The afternoon sun will come soon, casting a shadow over the rose bushes and the fountains which slow trickles of water are supposed to bring you peace but somehow just makes you dread this meeting even more. Any girl back home would deem the location romantic from the blooming red flowers but you feel no affection for the man you are to greet in less than an hour. Even if your mother claims that you eventually will.

You thank the Gods that your mother isn’t here with you, knowing that you would have had to suffer through hearing her complain about Sol moving just a bit too far across the sky in his golden chariot to let your gown shine the way it is supposed to. She has already spent several hours doing your hair since dawn, decorating each strand with violets from the grass patch close to the river that runs through your village. Symbolizing modesty and faithfulness, she had said.

It’s not like you are here alone though. Instead of being here with your mother, you are here with your father; a senator who, despite his well-earned respect in the confusing web of Roman politics, still finds ways to satisfy his greed for more power. In this case, it is giving away his daughter to General Marcus Acacius.

“This is good for us,” your father had said during your silent crying as he talked about your new life with importance, “It will secure our family's position in these tumultuous times.”

Times are indeed tumultuous and they are changing right before your eyes in the form of angry shouts in the streets, rotting fruit and vegetables at the town square market, and fewer outings amongst commoners. Rome, once a beacon of hope and stability, now teeters on the edge of a type of chaos that not even the previous emperor Commodus could imagine putting his empire through. The co-emperors’ insanity, greed, and vanity drain the empire’s coffers as they engage in petty conflicts that lead to war left and right. As a result, the population is left impoverished, the youngest of men are dying in battle and the women cry for their families all the while the very top - your family included - luxuriates in growing wealth. Such is war, your father has stressed.

“General Acacius is a man of influence,” your father had continued, his voice laced with conviction that you did not understand, “His alliance will protect us from the whims of those who oppose the emperors and their righteous campaigns.”

General Acacius is a man of great renown, co-emperors Geta and Caracella’s right-hand man, and with a sea of stories about his admirable exploits on the battlefield. Your father has somehow made the political move of his life by settling this deal, promising the great warrior a wife of exceptional beauty who he can do with as he pleases. Women never have a say in these things, so you simply smiled during dinners where your future was discussed in the same manner as when a farmer plans the sale of one of his cattle, listing the animal’s qualities like he would say them later to the buyer.

Whenever he finally let you in on the conversation, he would give you a stern smile and emphasize the importance of this arrangement because of the honor and security it would bring to your family to have such a man as your ally. However, where your father wanted you to think about your future husband’s victories, all you do think about is the fact that your future husband is a man in his fifties and you have barely surpassed your twentieth Summer in the mortal realm.

When the minutes tick by with excruciating slowness, you find a bench made of stone in the shade. You dust off your dress, tuck it close to your thighs, and sit down to steady your nervous breathing. The sun has made you unsteady, having beaten down on you - contrary to your mother’s worries - despite it being the last burning rays of the afternoon. You blame it on your overactive mind, the racing thoughts having gone straight to your heart and made your blood flow hot through you.

You lay a hand against your forehead, fighting off a sob as the nerves finally get the better of you. There’s no way you can ever see your reflection in the cold river again, smell the hyacinths that brush your ankles as you walk through them, or hear the laughter of children in the building next door unless the giggles are those of your own little ones.

You have been groomed for this, trained by your eager mother to be the perfect wife to a man you have never met. Your mother’s meticulous preparation is meant to ensure that you make a flawless first impression and are a suitable wife, but right now it does little to calm you because you know that this arrangement’s ultimate goal is for you to bear children that will be even more powerful than you and the general’s respective families.

Barely an adult and never been kissed, forced to be intimate by the general’s command that will surely come. You know well enough that there’s more to it than that, Cassius, a boy from the market, once having revealed in great detail what goes on between a man and his wife or even just a man and a woman. The future wedding night feels like an impending disaster, embarrassing for you with the way your mother has also dragged you aside to tell you horror stories of men taking what they want from their wives with little regard for their pain.

You gasp as a twig snaps close by, pulling you out of your trance to assess the situation. In front of you, you see him. General Marcus Acacius is standing no less than ten feet from you, his armor, a white plate body adorned with the design of two golden griffins, gleaming in the sunlight. He stands tall and imposing, his presence radiating with authority but when you spot him, his eyes make him seem incapable of the horrors that people attribute to married men. His hair, streaked with gray, frames a face marked by the years and experiences of a seasoned soldier. His eyes, sharp and assessing, bore into you as he waits for you to move.

You stare up at him for a second only to be seized by panic as you remember the routine you had been forced to practice with your mother. Quickly, you rise from your seat, dust off your dress, and lower your gaze respectfully.

“General Acacius, forgive me,” you say without finding his gaze.

You hear your name on his lips, surprised to hear that his voice is firm yet not unkind. It’s hard to suppress the shiver that wants to run down your spine, a tingling sensation at the small of your back as he speaks because you know what he will be doing to your body soon, “I’m pleased to finally meet you.”

You nod, letting out the rehearsed lines expertly, “The honor is mine and mine alone, General.”

“Look at me, my child,” you hear him command softly, getting a glimpse of what led him to become the man of power and grace that he is today because you follow through without thinking. You only imagine what he must be able to accomplish when his voice is rough and demanding. However, his eyes are softer still, a striking contrast to his profession where he has to consider each of his steps with deliberate and measured precision.

Marcus steps closer. You automatically take a step back, afraid that he might try and touch you already against your will. Nobody would know if he ravished you right here. He presses his mouth together in a thin line but he still somehow doesn’t look angry, instead just looks like he is analyzing the situation that he is in.

“Your father thought it best that I introduced myself without him or the servants’ eyes watching. I was surprised at his immediate confidence in me to be alone with his youngest daughter,” he says while you hug yourself to soothe your aching chest, holding on tightly as you beg someone to help you escape. He examines you long enough for you to believe he won’t strike to take what he might want. You feel guilty for thinking that he might have, knowing that it’s not the actions of an honorable leader.

“You are much younger than I expected,” he admits after a moment, a hint of weariness in his tone.

A tear slides down your stinging cheeks but you quickly brush it away and regain your composure enough to not start sobbing. The embarrassment of your single teardrop is evident on your face as warmth creeps up through the intricate twists and bends of your bloodstream, a dull pounding sounding in your ears.

“And you are a great man,” you reply in the most steady voice you can muster, “I hope to be a worthy wife to you.”

Marcus smiles, a small but genuine expression while he ignores your obvious distress. After all, this is not a matter in which women have a say. He sounds ever so confident in you, encouraging even, in a way you guess is to soothe your impending tears, “You will do well, I am sure.”

When you do not respond, he tries again. You must look like a scared little girl, desperately in need of being approached like a frightened animal and your heartbeat certainly imitates the one of a rabbit.

“I see you wear flowers in your hair,” he notes, finding the least threatening subject to discuss.

“Yes?” You furrow your brow, arms already falling down your sides. You link your fingers together in front of you.

“I made sure to have the gardener do extra work on each of the flowers in case you were interested in flora and fauna,” he elaborates, “Does the garden please you, Carissima?”

Carissima. The Latin word for dearest. He seems to be trying it out, collecting information from how you react to it, and making a move based on it. Your brows knit even further together but you use the opportunity to seem less scared and more relaxed after hearing it.

“It’s very beautiful, General. I shall be very fond of it in the future,” you say genuinely because, despite your ignorance of its charm right now, a rational part of you knows that it is gorgeous and enchanting. You will come to love it wholeheartedly.

“The birds that land in the trees here sing you awake in the early hours of the day,” he continues and mirrors you by also softening a little, looking around with a surprising fondness toward the gentle coos of the doves sitting on the rooftops, “If you are very lucky, you might hear a nightingale amongst the doves’ coos.”

“Nightingales are common back home,” you tell him with longing in your heart, closing your eyes for the briefest second but being able to see your backyard so clearly in that fleeting moment. Marcus senses it, shifting a bit on the spot with a concerned expression so you force a smile to let him know there’s no reason to worry about getting a sorrowful wife. You will cry tonight but you will be ready when he needs you to.

“So you know their song well,” he answers thoughtfully, “Good. I’m glad. It will remind you of home in these new surroundings. Will you let me show you the rest of the garden? Perhaps we can get to know each other a little before the weekend’s ceremony.”

He holds out his arm for you and you hesitate for just a moment before taking it, swallowing thickly at the feeling of how strong he is. His muscles flex gently underneath his bare skin, nicely soft wrapped around the muscles of his bicep when you expect everything about him to be rough and worn out by years of service to the empire. His smell envelops you, near-dizzying to you because you’ve never been in such close proximity to a man before and you don’t think you can imagine being any closer than this even though you have to soon. To think that you were nervous about him stepping close just minutes ago and now he is touching you and it feels… fine, not scary at all.

As he walks beside you, you can see the lines on his forehead when he speaks in concentration. He still looks good for his age, you find yourself thinking, blessed by the deities Venus and Apollo for his well-aged beauty and the golden radiance of his skin that reminds you of the sun. You notice his nose now that you see his profile, it curving in the way of Jupiter’s and making you swallow thickly at the power his mere appearance gives him.

Some things speak to the young girl in you too; his beard has patches, one formed in a heart shape that you would tell the girls in your village back home about if you could. To this, they would giggle delightedly like they were still the age of getting tutored.

Then there are his brown eyes, deep as the darkest of amber you have collected on the shorelines in your youth. They shine with sincerity, more than once filling yours with their honey glow as you walk together. You begin to see beyond the fearsome reputation and the sternness that he first approached you with. He speaks of the flowers surrounding you with surprising tenderness, admitting to the jasmine being his favorite, and of how he had the garden designed to remind him of his childhood home in the countryside.

You think that your responses seem trivial compared to the anecdotes that he is able to share but he seems to enjoy hearing tales about your childhood home. He nods in understanding and adds the words of someone well-reflected even if he is known for brutality when at war. You let down your guard, “We must have more in common than I initially thought, Gene—“

“Marcus,” he corrects when you come to a stop, “You may call me Marcus when we are alone.”

“Marcus,” you repeat. You look down briefly as warmth settles in your cheeks, your heartbeat speeding up in your chest because you realize he has led you to a small, secluded area of the grand peristyle garden. The sun is lower now, casting a warm, golden hue over the marble fountain before you. It is small yet majestic in its simplicity, surrounded by vines of ivy and jasmine. It seems to be his favorite spot on all of his owned property.

“What are we doing here? Are we supposed to be this hidden from everyone else?” Your grip loosens on his arm.

“Never mind that, Carissima…”

There’s that name again.

“Look, I know this isn’t the Trevi Fountain of Rome but I thought we could wish for Fortuna to bring us good luck and happiness together,” he reaches for his belt where a pouch hangs in a string that pulls it closed. He digs his thumb and index finger into it and digs out a coin, its front decorated with an engraved picture of a peacock’s feather; a symbol of Juno, the Goddess of marriage and childbirth.

He holds the coin between his fingers, the sunlight catching its glimmering surface, and offers it to you with a gentle expression that’s not quite a smile in case it might scare you off. You take it, feeling the weight of the moment settle in your palm. This is your future husband and he is trying, doing everything in his power not to unsettle you but invite you to give yourself to him in the next coming days.

The coin is mostly cool against your skin but still holds the tiniest amount of warmth from Marcus’ fingers, its edges smooth and worn from years of handling.

“This is a tradition,” Marcus explains, his voice carrying reverence, “We make a wish and toss the coin into the fountain. It is said that Fortuna, the Goddess of luck, grants blessings to those who seek her favor.”

You nod. This moment feels intimate, a quiet ritual shared between the two of you amidst the grandeur of the garden yet still hidden away from everyone else. This is a ritual of lovers, of people whose fates are closely entwined. You look at Marcus, meeting his warm brown eyes, and find reassurance in his steady gaze and slow secure breaths. You find it shameful that you believed him to be violent with you, that he would do anything with anger because he is, you realize, the type of man who doesn’t have to take anything by force when it comes to women. In that moment, it makes total sense to follow his wishes, but even more, it makes sense to wed him and go to bed with him.

“What should I wish for?” You ask softly.

Marcus dares a smile, “Whatever your heart desires. A wish for happiness, perhaps. Or for our future together to be filled with understanding and respect. Perhaps, in our own way, companionship and love.”

Together, you approach the edge of the fountain and you lean over it to gaze at the many glinting coins on the bottom. A violet falls from your hair and lands on the surface of the water, floating effortlessly with such strong symbolism that your stomach does a flip.

Marcus steps closer behind you and you turn to face him, the rim of the marble fountain digging into the back of your thighs until you nearly fall backward in an embarrassingly young fashion. Marcus takes you by the wrist to steady you but the touch doesn’t last long since you’re supposed to throw the coin over your shoulder.

With a flick of your wrist, you send the coin into the water behind you. The only thing you feel is the coldness on your skin where Marcus’ fingers were a moment ago, the slight breeze cooling down his leftover body heat quickly.

The coin hits the water with a splash. You swallow your nervousness to say something for the first time that isn’t the answer to a question from him, “May Fortuna smile upon us.”

“May she indeed,” Marcus agrees, pleased. He motions to a bench close by, “Shall we sit for a moment? Your feet must be tired.”

You agree, and he helps you to sit. Your hands touching sends a spike of energy through you before you are disappointed by him taking a seat beside you but maintaining a respectful distance. He takes his sword out of its place in his belt and rests it against the bench, getting comfortable with you.

“Marcus,” you say his name before you even realize what you want to ask of him.

“Yes?” He waits patiently for you to continue, nodding his head in acknowledgment.

When your request comes to mind, you are struck by the fear of ridicule but you shove it down in favor of letting yourself have this.

“I know this is most unusual to ask of you, but would you give me a kiss?” The second you have said it, panic makes you babble in his presence, “I know my duties as a wife, my mother has told me plenty, but I cannot bear the idea of the first show of affection between us to be in our chambers and with… with more to come.”

If you are not to burst into tears at the festivities after your union or even worse, when he takes you to bed, you need to get this out of the way. You only hope to be successful in your attempt, knowing it is not customary to follow through on such an ask. It hangs in the air for a moment, the garden seeming to hold its breath along with you. It all comes down to your future husband’s view of modesty.

Marcus watches you carefully with an expression that is a mixture of surprise and contemplation. He looks like he might say no at first, afraid that someone from his staff might spot you and start a rumor that deems you unworthy of this arrangement. It might be the sincerity and vulnerability in your request that convinces him and lets him take the risk.

“Very well, I understand your concern,” he nods with determination.

He shifts closer on the stone bench, his movements slow as if trying to put you at ease, as if approaching a deer in the forest and not wanting it to run. You can feel the warmth of his body next to yours as your thighs nearly touch, the scent of his skin filling your senses. It is leather, sandalwood… and something that is his own distinctive smell. Your heart races, your skin prickles underneath your gown, and heat spreads across your thighs.

It feels like you only blink for a second but when you open your eyes again, Marcus is closer, his face inches from yours. You can feel his uneven breaths mix with yours,

“Are you ready?” He asks in a whisper, his breath warm against your face and his eyes roaming over your features in case you want to stop.

Your voice has died in your throat, so you simply nod your head. Marcus swallows thickly while you are lost in the fact that you can count his eyelashes right now. He leans in, his lips brushing against yours with care and apprehension that takes you by surprise. The kiss is soft and restrained as if he is giving you the chance to pull away if you want to.

But you don’t. Instead, you lean into the kiss when you’ve gotten used to the scratch of his beard, your hands resting lightly on his shoulders and moving inwards towards his neck, sliding under the collar of his cape. His lips are warm and you feel a shiver run down your spine at a sort of contact you have never felt before. You wonder what he thinks of you, if your passion even in your inexperience is worth his time to broaden your horizon… but any doubt vanishes as the kiss deepens slightly, Marcus’ hand coming up from where it rests on the stone to lay on the small of your back, pulling you closer.

A tiny noise leaves you and something stirs in the pit of your stomach. You can feel the strength in his arm as he has it wrapped around you but there is no force or demand in his touch. Instead, there is a sense of him handing control over to you.

An instinct tells you to get even closer, straddle him, do something, anything even if you are not sure what. One of your hands falls down to Marcus’ chest plate, his uneven breath evident in how it pushes against your palm like raging waves. Your hand travels further down until the tips of your fingers brush his belt.

It is only then that the general reacts, pulling back firmly but without hurting you. He creates some distance between you by pushing you gently away by the shoulders. The both of you are breathless. He shakes his head, “Carissima. That was not part of the deal.”

You are embarrassed by your actions, not sure if Cupid is playing tricks on you by blowing to the fires of forbidden desire that you were not even aware burned in your lower belly. Your body hums but you are mortified, “S-sorry, my legatus. I don’t know what came over me.”

You go back to general. It feels appropriate to use his proper title now. You have brought shame on yourself, might as well have let him take your maidenhead right here on the stone-cold bench and the worst part is that you are not sure if the fire in your loins would have fogged your brain enough to not stop him from doing it.

“Please, do not apologize,” he says to reassure, holding up a hand to stop you from protesting, “There is nothing wrong with what you feel. It is natural. But I want to honor my promise to your father, no matter the impulses that you give me. You are as beautiful as Venus herself. I shall enjoy our time together very much when it comes.”

“Thank you,” you say with a still trembling voice. The lump in your throat feels impossible to swallow.

“Now. Shall we continue our walk?” He suggests while getting up from his seat, his tone light as if to ease the tension. He offers you a gentle smile as he ties his sword to his belt again then reaches to take your hand.

You get up with a simple nod. He acts like nothing for the rest of the day.

—

You return home by carriage after dinner at Marcus’ estate. After a day with such complex emotions being explored, with how your new life seems less and less like a dream, and with how the sun hangs so low in the sky, you have already started to feel tiredness taking over your body.

You excuse yourself to your room not long after you return to the comfortable familiarity of your home, brattishly avoiding conversation with your mother about how everything went when she starts asking a million questions.

“I thought you might like to talk,” she says after you have gotten up from your seat in the living room, a few paces behind you as you make your way down the halls.

“Mother, I just want some rest,” you stress, bare feet patting across the floor. You hold your skirt up to walk faster, nearing your destination but not wanting to slam the door in her face, “I do not wish to talk about anything with anyone. Ask father. I bet he’ll be eager.”

“Dearest,” she tries, “Don’t be cruel.”

“Please,” you beg as you turn around in the doorway, “It was fine. I’ll be fine, it’s just a huge transition from this life.”

“That’s why I wanted to—“

“No,” you say more firmly than intended but your overwhelmed state leaves you with little patience. You hope she understands, know that she might because her marriage to your father started the very same way, “I promise we can talk in the morning but I really need some time for myself right now.”

Your mother looks slightly hurt like she is watching her child slip through her fingers during her last night at home. You swallow thickly but hold your ground.

“Very well,” she says finally, eyes closing briefly to breathe through her nose. She forces a small smile and leans in to kiss your forehead, “Get some rest. We can talk tomorrow with this conversation forgotten.”

You offer the very same smile in return, then close the door behind you with a relieved sigh. You cross the room to the window, pushing open the shudders to overlook the buzzing garden.

Carefully, you start detangling the flowers from your hair and laying them on the window sill. A few of them are taken by the wind, some landing on the ground while others delicately fly through the air. You watch them until a gasp leaves you, two eyes belonging to a man staring at you from across the garden but you don’t feel frightened.

You sigh with annoyance as he steps out of the bushes and closer to the window, picking up one of the violets on his way, “You should not be here, Cassius.”

“I wanted to see you before tomorrow,” he admits with a little smile, boyish and inexperienced compared to the ones you have received from Marcus today. He places his hands on the window frame, about to crawl inside.

“Are you trying to get killed?” You whisper loudly and barricade the window, “You cannot be in here, don’t come in.”

“What if I never see you again?” Cassius huffs but doesn’t push it, “I just wanted to say congratulations on your union tomorrow.”

“We’ve known each other for years, Cass. Of course, I’ll see you again; you’re my oldest friend,” you say with exasperation but you know that it is naive of you to assume this is the way things work. Cassius grew up with a farmer for a father, living far away in the countryside where the houses are surrounded by fields of vegetables that they eat at the palace and a long way from the neighborhood that you have grown up in.

“Well, you can say it from outside my window,” you continue and tense up at a few footsteps outside your door. You hold your index finger in front of your lips, listening intently to see if they pass or stop in suspicion of who you are talking to.

A moment passes and the footsteps fade. You turn back to Cassius who now wears a troubled expression, eyebrows knitted together. You go a little softer, a little more quiet, “There’s more, isn’t there?”

Cassius hesitates just a second before speaking, “Your dear old dad has probably told you about this but things are changing around the outskirts of Rome. It’s growing more dangerous by the day to live out where I am. Geta and Caracalla’s combined ruling. They are not in their right mind and it is tearing the backbone of the empire apart. We’re angry and starving.”

You nod, narrowing your eyes at him. Your father has indeed talked about this during dinners in the past but always with no air of real concern and more with a scoff when mentioning the ungrateful people of Rome, their greed, their arrogance but mostly their lack of trust in their emperors who are right under the Gods.

“Why are you saying this?” You inquire impatiently.

“To ensure your safety in all of this when things break loose. You know how I feel about you,” Cassius looks down briefly. Yes, you know how he feels about you and while you have never reciprocated his love, you feel a tug in your heart about how he has waited for you for years with knowledge of how impossible your life together would be. A farm boy and the daughter of a senator? It is doomed from the very beginning.

“If things are as dangerous as you say then the general will be able to protect me, will he not?” You ask to push him away, make him let go of you.

“Marcus Acacius is a powerful man, but even he may not be able to navigate the storm that’s coming to the citadel,” Cassius places a hand on the window sill, the violets flying to all sides from the force. It’s his way of trying to get closer.

“And your solution is what? That I run away with you? Please,” you look down at his hand. This is not one of those moments where you realize your feelings after all this time, after years of childhood friendship, and run off together with the boy next door, so you let your hands fall down to your sides.

“Don’t marry him,” he suggests with pleading eyes, “I don’t want you with those people.”

You laugh in disbelief and turn your head away, “Cassius, by the Gods, you know that I have no say in that whatsoever. Besides, who says that I don’t want to be there with him?”

Cassius ignores the last part of your sentence bitterly, “Then just be careful, my friend. I know your father has power but I know he favors the emperors which will not benefit him in the coming future. Those caught in the middle often pay the highest price and you’ll soon be at the very top, exposed.”

You shake your head to brush him off but something is looming underneath Cassius’ words. They don’t sound as delusional as your father might think them and you poke fun to maybe earn a confession, “You sound like you’re going to storm the palace tomorrow.”

It is Cassius’ turn to laugh but the sound is hollow, “Tomorrow is your wedding day. I would never be so bold as to make you hate me. No, I have no plans to go so far.”

“What are you planning?” You narrow your eyes at him.

“Nothing right at this moment,” he replies quickly but unconvincingly. You can feel the tension in his voice and the strain on his jaw as he clenches it, “But I will do what I must if it comes to a point where I need to fight back.”

“You make it sound like I have the power to fix everything. I do not,” you say with frustration.

“Then at least change your heart,” he tries one last time, holding his hand out for you like he wants you to take it and crawl out the window, never to show your face here again.

You shake your head, “Cassius, you know our lives were never meant to intertwine like that. We come from different worlds.”

“But our hearts,” he whispers sorrowfully, “They’re from the same world. At least, mine has always belonged to you.”

“Cassius…”

“I understand,” he admits in defeat, “Marry him, have his children but stay out of the palace. I can’t stress that enough. Stay out of the palace.”

“You are speaking in tongues again, what does this mean? What do you know?” You stare at him.

Cassius steps back from the window, the distance between you growing both physically and emotionally. With a sad smile, he looks at you one last time. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Cassius,” you reply with furrowed brows.

With that, he turns back into the night, leaving you with a mind filled with questions. You watch as he disappears into the shadows of the garden.

You lean against the wall with a deep breath, heart heavy with uncertainty about who you thought you knew so well but you decide to ignore it completely to get some relief by rest. You will rather try to focus on the events of tomorrow as you start to undress down to your tunic, your thoughts swarming around Marcus instead of Cassius. The way that things are supposed to be.

Not long after, you lie down to sleep in your bedroom for the last time before moving into Marcus Acacius’ villa the next day. You should be feeling upset about leaving everything and everyone behind, nostalgic and melancholic even about Cassius, but all your mind does is replay the events that took place on the bench in the peristyle courtyard just half a day beforehand. It is so vivid that you cannot seem to rest, the images of Marcus’ beautiful, God-given eyes and mouth flashing on the inside of your eyelids whenever you try to fall asleep. The pictures are in such vibrant colors too, so intense that you resort to pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes. The colors smear and blur together until they look like painting instead but you have to stop due to the ache.

It doesn't matter anyway because it isn’t enough. Your vision isn’t the only one of your senses that he has taken as his own. The feel of his mouth lingers on yours, enough for you to let your fingertips trace over your bottom lip. It feels the same but then again, it doesn’t. Maybe he has left a mark on you that no one has dared to point out?

As well lingers a feeling of a spark that cannot be extinguished once it has been ignited. The sensation has you restless under the covers, the woven fabric scratching uncomfortably against your arms and legs until you have to throw them off.

It is a warm night tonight. The window shutters are still open to let in a night breeze that feels nice on your bare, burning, and untouched skin. You try to find sleep by listening to the usual chirping sound of the crickets but it is of no comfort this time. Marcus is still right there with you, his strong hand on your back and his eyes flickering down to your lips. In your head, he wants you and he lifts up your tunic to touch you where your pulse throbs and— By Jupiter, you need to calm yourself.

You open your eyes to stare up at the ceiling. Everyone has gone to bed, your parents, despite your protests, having come in and kissed you on the forehead while expressing how proud you have made them feel. Yet in the familiar surroundings of your childhood bedroom, everything feels foreign now that you’ve stepped into new territory of desire, unlocking something that separates you from what belongs to the mind of someone’s child. You don’t belong anymore in this room with walls that contain all of your childhood memories. You are grown now.

You should feel sorrow about this, about never coming back here but instead, your body buzzes like a hive of bees, tiny shivers of lust provided by Cupid flowing through you as teasingly as the softest butterfly wings flapping around inside you. It’s a forbidden feeling that stirs guilt in you but also a strange anticipation that has your hand slipping down your belly. Has your skin always been this soft?

You wonder if Marcus feels the same turmoil inside of himself, if he is lying awake just as you are right now and replaying the way your fingertips danced around his waistband but never got any further. The thought makes your hand slide down between your legs, reaching up under the hem of your tunic until your fingers slide over the wet skin there. You breathe deeply in through your nose.

You have done this a few times before but you’ve always gotten to a point where you have to stop yourself, afraid of what might happen when you feel yourself start to reach some sort of pinnacle that you are at a loss for words to describe. It’s natural, you remember Marcus saying about your body’s response. But doing it alone? Isn’t what you are feeling as you touch yourself reserved for your future husband? What would he say if he saw you explore yourself like this? Would he be disappointed in you? Or does he do it himself? Naked in his bed with his thigh muscles flexing as he feels what you are feeling right now? No, don’t think about him like that.

Your thighs fall out to the sides on their own accord. You find the spot that makes you gasp softly, the night way too quiet for you to be making such a noise when others are sleeping soundly. You tip your head back to open your throat, hoping it will make you quieter as you play with the sensation between your legs. Are the Gods watching you? Are they the only ones who can understand the complexities of your mortal longings? Can they tell you what will happen on the other side of this tightening in your gut?

Your breath quickens, shallow puffs of air coming out as you near the pinnacle quicker than ever. A noise close to the sound of a hurt animal escapes your lips and your fingers start to move in earnest, quickly back and forth over the little nub that you think is far too small to have such an effect on the rest of your body. How are you so soon covered in a sheen of sweat? How is your soul already teetering on ripping from your body, a mere vessel?

“Ah,” you moan a little louder, catching it in your throat by biting down on your lip. You feel the pleasurable buildup gradually increase in intensity and suddenly you’ve rolled around onto your front to grind your pelvis up and down on your fist.

Marcus. Marcusmarcusmarcusmar—

No. Clarity comes to you right before you lose it, fear too as it feels like your spirit might leave your body completely. You force yourself to stop your hips’ rapid movements against your hand, surprised at how quickly the sensation of something so unfathomable can ebb away from your grasp. It leaves both a physical and emotional ache. You pant against the bed, nearly creating a damp spot where your mouth rests against the linen.

You roll onto your back once more, wiping your slick fingertips on the sheets before pulling your tunic back into place around your thighs. You suddenly start to freeze, the air from outside your window starting to cool down the sweat on your skin.

It takes a few minutes for your heart rate to drop again. Tomorrow, you will marry Marcus Acacius and a new chapter will begin - a chapter where the tingling ache between your legs will belong to him - but for now, you let the fatigue of managing to hold off lull you to sleep.

You pull the covers up to your chin, feeling smaller like this but it doesn’t comfort you like it did when you were a mere child. You cannot stop the tears that spring to your eyes, starting as a tightening in your chest, a thick swallowing, only to come out in quiet sobs.

You feel the drops slide down your face, running freely down to the sides of your cheekbones and over your ears. Your hair dampens slightly, your nose grows stuffy and sensitive but despite all the telltale signs of your distress, there’s mainly relief as you let go to cry harder about your new life.

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kwanisms · 11 months

Text

Accidents Happen — h.hyunjin, l.felix

» stray kids masterlist «

➮ witch!Felix × f!Reader × incubus!Hyunjin wc: 10.5k summary: While studying for a witches exam, Felix leaves his materials out where his girlfriend, Y/N, happens upon them. When she reads an incantation, an incubus is accidentally summoned. Deciding to make a spectacle of it, the demon forces Felix to watch as he seduces his girlfriend. genres/themes/au: angst, smut; supernatural, witchcraft, and demonic themes, establish relationship (Felix), s2l (Hyunjin); non idol au, witch au, demon au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, Felix practices witchcraft, alcohol consumption (Y/N has a glass of wine), Hyunjin is a menace and restrains Felix with his powers, sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! special taglist: @yoonguurt , @anyamaris , @wooyoungqueen , @kpop-stories-21 , @xsweetelegantdiasterx , @kookthief , @stardragongalaxy , @millennial-fangirl , @blankdyean , @imwithurmother , @bangchans-angel , @oreoqueen , @yjeonginlvr , @zdgx1 , @shuxsoo , @s00buwu , @queenmea604 , @pochaccomin , @katsukis1wife , @linos-catnip Join the taglist! »» Closes 10/30 @ 23:00 CST! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL NOT BE ADDED.

a/n: this one is kinda dark, not gonna lie so read with caution. This isn't a joke lol this is also kind of self indulgent cause I can. I used Google Translate again for the spell, so it might not be super accurate but I'm not really going for accuracy here lol it's smut. Thank you so much for reading, if you like this pls reblog or comment! As always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), unprotected sex (demons don’t care lol but you should), somnophilia, auralism, mind break, cuckold, use of pet names (Felix calls her angel, baby, but Hyunjin calls her slut, whore, etc), Hyunjin is a menace and Felix is a sobbing mess. Let me know if I missed anything!

dialogue prompt: ❛ I’m going to have you screaming by the end of the night ❜ & ❛ do you really think you’re in a position to be giving orders? ❜

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Witches. Beings that have existed all throughout history and have instilled fear in communities for centuries. Practitioners of dark magic. Beings that worship the devil and sell their souls in exchange for mystical powers. This was how witches were always perceived.

Only it was entirely wrong.

Felix had heard a plethora of names thrown at him all his life. “Witch! Devil-worshiper! Heretic!” The words had been shouted at him from various sources but he knew deep down they were only scared because they didn’t understand.

He was misunderstood, his practices were misunderstood, and magick was misunderstood.

Felix didn’t stand around a cauldron, stirring in weird ingredients like eyes of newts or tiger claws or whatever other things fiction thought sounded bizarre and outlandish. Felix didn’t even own a cauldron. He wasn’t that kind of witch. He focused more on summoning and conjuring. That was his school.

But even the conjuration school of magick had special items he needed in order to do his spells. For that he had to visit Arcana Infinitum. The shop was located in the back corner of the town square, nestled between the ice cream shop and a beautiful and old antique store named Pandora’s Box.

Ignoring the weird looks he got from mothers as they pulled their children along and hurried across the street to avoid him, Felix continued on, the heels of his boots echoing on the stone sidewalk as he walked down past Marino’s and turned the corner.

Arcana Infinitum was a sight for sore eyes after all the glares and stares as Felix had walked from his home he shared with his girlfriend to the town square. He tried to not let it get to him but to see so much hate and disdain in one place made him wonder if moving here to this small town was worth it at all.

Not that he’d ever bring this up with you, his girlfriend.

He crossed the cobbled street and reached the door to the shop and opened it, stepping inside and finding solace in the warm interior. It wasn’t entirely freezing outside but the light mist really made the chilly air bite at his skin, his cheeks and the tip of his nose a bright pink.

“Welcome to-- oh it’s you, Felix!” a voice said and the blond looked up to see one of his favorite shopkeepers smiling at him from the back of the shop. “Hey, Joong,” Felix said as he moved further into the shop, meeting Hongjoong halfway. “What brings you in today?” Hongjoong asked, reaching up to brush some of his bright blue hair out of his eyes.

He wore a simple white button down shirt with bell sleeves cinched at the wrist and black slacks. Over this he wore a simple off white apron. “I’m studying for my exam,” Felix explained, reaching into the small crossbody he carried and pulling out a folded piece of paper. “It’s for my conjuration exam,” he continued, unfolding the sheet and handing it to Hongjoong. “I need these items.”

Felix watched Hongjoong read over the list, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as the older man muttered to himself. “I should have all of this,” Hongjoong finally said. “Look around while I gather your materials.” Felix thanked him as Hongjoong moved to grab a small wire basket and started walking around the shop while he walked over to look at a display of postcards.

Most of them were for the town and all of them were hand drawn. “Who drew these?” Felix called as he looked over the cards. “Oh, that would be Yunho and San,” Hongjoong replied as he moved behind the wooden counter and started searching through the shelves on the back wall.

Felix continued to look around. He had reached a bookcase with old tomes and spellbooks. He ran his fingers over the spines of the books, reading the titles until one caught his eye. A dark purple hardback with gold lettering in Hangul. He grabbed the tome and pulled it from its place. It was heavy as Felix looked over the cover.

“When did this come in?” Felix asked, holding it up to show Hongjoong the cover. “Oh a few days ago!” Hongjoong said as he set the wire basket on the counter and started to add everything up. Felix walked over with the purple book in his hands. “Is it for sale?” he asked softly as he reached the counter.

Hongjoong looked up and smiled before returning to his task. “Does a bear shit in the woods?” he retorted, adding everything up on the calculator before putting in Felix’s discount. “Add this on to my order,” Felix said, setting the book on the counter as Hongjoong started to bag everything.

He picked up the book and put it in the bag and told Felix his total as the latter pulled out his wallet. “Even with the book?” Felix asked. Hongjoong shook his head. “Book is on the house. Think of it as a little slice of home.”

Felix pulled out a few notes and handed them to Hongjoong who promptly entered the amount into the register and put the money away, grabbing Felix’s change. “Tell Y/N I said hey,” Hongjoong said as Felix put his money away and picked up his bag. “I will,” he said with a smile.

Exiting the shop, Felix shifted the bag in his arms as his phone started to ring. He pulled it from his pocket and smiled as he answered it. “Hey babe,” he said softly. “Hey,” came your voice. He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t his favorite sound in the world.

“Are you home?” you asked.

“No,” Felix said as he started to walk across the street. “I ran by the shop to get some things for my exam,” he explained. “Hongjoong said to say hi by the way,” he added. You chuckled on the other side. “Of course he did. I’ll say hi next time I see him. Are you heading home now then?” you asked.

Felix could hear voices on your end of the line. “Yeah, hey, what’s that whispering?” he asked as he continued down the sidewalk, offering quiet pardons as he squeezed between other townspeople.

“Oh those are my coworkers and trust me,” you said. “They’re not whispering.” Felix heard a few soft apologies and snorted. “How’s work?” he asked and you sighed. “It’s alright. I wish I was home instead.” Felix laughed as he glanced up and down the street before hurrying across. “Don’t we all.”

You clicked your tongue in feigned annoyance. “You’re one to talk,” you replied. “I have a job!” Felix replied, sounding mildly scandalized. “I just don’t work in an office with a view of the city,” he added. You chuckled and no doubt shook your head. “When are you coming home?” Felix asked as he walked down the street towards your shared home.

“Soon,” you replied. “Cleo has told us she has an end of the day meeting we’re supposed to attend so we’re all in here waiting for that to start. It might run over if she’s any later. So I was wondering if you’d be able to swing by the grocery store and grab the things on the list?”

Felix stopped in his tracks at the bottom of the steps leading up into the house. “I just got home,” he murmured. “I can drop this off and go back,” he added as he started up the steps, sandwiching his phone between his ear and his shoulder and digging for his keys.

“No, it’s okay,” you replied. “I know you’ve got a lot of studying to do. I’ll just stop by on my way home. Dinner will just be a little late tonight,” you replied as Felix unlocked the doors and let himself in. He shut the door before Fanta, his orange familiar cat, couldn’t escape.

“Are you sure?” Felix asked as he walked past the living room and into the kitchen. “Mhm,” you answered. “Cleo’s just entered the room so hopefully this meeting can start and I’ll be out of here sooner than expected. Gotta go,” you whispered. “Okay, I love you,” Felix said quickly. “I love you, too!”

Felix smiled as he hung up the phone and turned to open a cabinet, grabbing one of the glasses and moving to the fridge to get some ice and water. Fanta jumped up onto the counter, letting out a croaky meow as Felix turned to look over his shoulder. “What have I said about jumping onto the counter, Fanta?” The animal let out a small meow before moving and hopping down.

Felix rolled his eyes, sipping on his water and scrolling through his feed. “The world is a crazy place,” Felix started as Fanta walked over to the back door and meowed, pawing at the wood. “You live in a nice warm house. You’re safe here. Why would you want to go outside where you could be killed?” Felix asked, walking over and picking up the cat.

Fanta meowed as Felix cuddled him close. “Oh, you’re so dramatic,” Felix muttered as Fanta struggled to get free before Felix let him hop down. “Fine. I try to show you love and you don’t appreciate it. I’m going to study.”

Felix set his empty glass in the sink and grabbed his purchase from Arcana Infinitum before heading upstairs. He set the bag on his desk and then headed into your shared bedroom and sat on the foot of the bed, reaching down to untie his boots. Had he been home, his mother would have hit him over the head for wearing his shoes all over the house but you didn’t seem to mind.

Once his boots were removed, he started changing into more comfortable clothes, tossing his black jeans and shirt into the hamper and pulling on some gray sweats and an oversized white tee.

Once he was comfortable, Felix returned to his study where he started to unpack the items he’d bought, setting them aside as he did so. He pulled out the purple Korean book of spells and opened it, eyes scanning the pages written entirely in Hangul.

Maybe he’d do a little light reading before studying. He’d gotten the book for free after all. Felix set the book on the chaotic and messy surface of his desk, turning the page, and started reading.

When you arrived home after stopping by the grocery store, it was much later than you liked. The meeting thankfully hadn’t gone on for very long and the bus to your small town on the outskirts of the city didn’t eat too much time either. It was when you arrived at the grocery store to pick up a few things that things went wrong.

As usual, one of the elderly ladies in the town had to stop you and lecture you about the uses of witchcraft and making deals with the devil. You had to explain for what felt like the millionth time that you weren’t the one practicing magick nor were you in the habit of speaking about your boyfriend like that. You reminded them that magick wasn’t harmful. It wasn’t like what the movies portray it as.

One lady in particular had held you up as you tried to check out until you told her to bugger off out of frustration, grabbing your bags and quickly leaving the store with your purchases. The walk back to the house wasn’t long either but it was still late as you let yourself in with your key, careful to make sure Fanta didn’t try another daring escape out the door.

You carried the bags over to the kitchen and started putting the cold items away. You’d picked up another tub of ice cream knowing you’d need some after the week you’d had. Once you had put most of the groceries away, you were working in the pantry when you heard a creak of wood above you.

“Felix?” you called, stopping your movements. When he didn’t respond, you decided to go upstairs and check on him. Climbing the steps one at a time you made your way up and at the landing, turned around the bannister and approached the door to his study.

You knocked softly but when there was no answer, you turned the knob and pushed the door open, peering in to find your boyfriend fast asleep, his head resting on his arms.

You smiled as you pushed the door open fully and stepped into the room. Reaching down, you brushed some of his blond hair back and then your eyes landed on a small strip of paper lying on the book he had open on the desk.

You picked it up and scanned the words curiously. It was in Korean, that much you could tell. Felix had taught you the Korean alphabet and how to pronounce the letters and he had taught you a couple words so you could at least read some things. You recognized one word on the paper but regardless you read the sentence aloud.

“Gajang gip-eun jiog-eseo neoleul bulleonae gyeolsogsikyeo jugessda.”

You shrugged your shoulders and set the paper back down before turning to head back to the door until something caught your eye.The flame of a candle, dancing inside the glass. Stopping in your tracks, you turned back to face his desk and shook your head as you moved to the lit candle on the desk, leaning in to blow out the flame.

“I don’t know how many times I’ve told you not to light candles if you’re going to fall asleep,” you murmured, gently stroking your boyfriend’s hair before exiting the room, closing the door with a click and returning to the kitchen downstairs to start dinner.

It had been a while since you’d made a nice home cooked meal, the two of you had been ordering out lately and you decided to do something nice not only for your hard working boyfriend but for yourself.

You seasoned and prepared the chicken, letting it marinate for thirty minutes as you prepared the vegetables and started your sauce in a pan. Once the skillet was oiled and heated, you added the chicken and let it sizzle for a bit before stirring it and added the veggies.

As you worked, you murmured the phrase you’d read earlier, turning it into a little song as music played in your head. You turned the chicken over again and finally poured the sauce in while some noodles boiled. “Okay, I need actual music now,” you said to yourself pulling your phone from your purse and turning some Mikazuki BIGWAVE on.

Felix awoke with a start, eyes snapping open as he looked around. He sat up, a loose page from his notes sticking to his cheek. He grabbed it and set it back on the desk before looking around.

The door to the study was cracked open and he could smell something wafting through the air towards him. He looked down at his desk, the purple book lying innocently and looking back at him. Something was different. He noticed a small piece of parchment with Korean written on it.

He picked it up and read the sentence quietly. He didn’t like the words on it and shook his head, tucking the piece of paper away in the back pages of the book before marking his place and shutting the book. He could resume reading it later. He picked up the tome and set it on one of the shelves before getting up and stretching.

He pulled open the door, the smell of dinner getting stronger as he made his way out of the study and down the stairs. “Y/N?” Felix called. “In here!” He followed the sound of your voice and cooking into the kitchen where you looked up and smiled at him. He walked over, planting a kiss on your cheek, his hand coming to rest on the small of your back.

“It smells really good, babe,” he murmured, resting his chin on your shoulder. “It should be ready soon,” you said softly, giggling as he moved to stand behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Mmm, you smell good, too,” he added, pressing a couple soft kisses to the base of your neck. “I’m not for dinner,” you replied. “Hmm, maybe for dessert?” he whispered, sending a chill up your spine.

“Dinner first,” you retorted. “No,” he whined, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Yes,” you said with a laugh. “Dinner first,” you set the spatula down and turned in his hold to face him, bringing your hands up to cup his face. “Then you can help me clean up and get your dessert after,” you added, pressing a kiss to his lips. Felix chased your lips as you pulled back.

“Fine,” he pouted as you turned back to finish dinner, adding the cooked pasta and giving everything a good mix as Felix moved to grab bowls from the cabinet. “There’s garlic bread, too,” you announced as he set the bowls on the counter and then grabbed two plates.

“What is it?” he asked as he moved to stand beside you. “Just a chicken recipe I found on Pinterest,” you replied struggling. “It’s got zucchini, red peppers, a white sauce and then chicken,” you explained as you turned the range off and started to scoop some pasta and chicken up to place in the bowls Felix held.

“Next bowl,” you said as you waited for Felix but he leaned in. “Pay the tax first,” he said, holding back a laugh. You rolled your eyes, kissing him before he moved the other bowl over.

Once the food had been served and you both had glasses of wine, you sat down and started eating. “This is so fucking good,” Felix said, covering his mouth with his hand. “You like it?” you asked, smiling at him. “Yes! I love it,” he replied, taking another bite.

“Good,” you chirped, taking a bite as well. “Neomu masisseo!” you heard your boyfriend say and you smiled.

Felix was placing another forkful of pasta into his mouth when he heard you mutter something under your breath.

"Neoleul bulleonae gyeolsogsikyeo jugessda."

He froze in place and slowly turned to face you. You had picked up some noodles and placed them in your mouth, glancing up and smiling at him. He couldn't be sure if he heard you properly.

"What did you say?" he asked softly, making you glance up at him. "Hmm?" you asked quietly. "What did you just say?" Felix asked again. "Neoleul bulleonae gyeolsogsikyeo jugessda," you repeated.

Felix's eyes widened, leaning forward as you continued to recite the evocation he'd seen earlier. "Gajang gip-eun jiog-eseo--"

Felix clamped his hand over your mouth. He shook his head. "Don't," he continued. "Don't finish that."

Your eyes widened comically and you nodded as Felix finally let go and sat back in his chair. “Where did you even learn that?” he asked, watching as a look of confusion crossed your face. “From a paper in your study,” you replied. Felix mentally cursed himself for leaving things out.

He would just have to perform a spell of protection before bed.

“It’s just gibberish, right?” you asked, innocently. Felix forced a smile and nodded. “Yeah,” he said softly.

“Just gibberish.”

After dinner, Felix helped you clean up, washing the dishes and handing them for you to rinse and set aside to dry. His mind was reeling with thoughts of what you might have summoned. He knew that piece of paper was a summoning spell. ‘From the depths of hell,’ he thought to himself. ‘It couldn’t have taken,’ he continued. ‘She only recited the evocation. She didn’t do the entire ritual.’

Once the kitchen was cleaned, you set your gloves on the edge of the sink to let them dry and turned to Felix, smiling at him. “Well,” you started, drawing his attention as he pulled his own gloves off. “You helped me clean up,” you continued. Felix nodded, looking around. “I always do,” he replied.

You raised an eyebrow at his reply. “Don’t you want your dessert now?” you asked, reaching forward to grab one of his hands. Felix’s eyes widened. Of course, how could he have forgotten?

“How about a movie first?” Felix offered. He wasn’t quite in the mood now but with some coaxing, he knew his mood could change quickly. You rolled your eyes and leaned forward, connecting your lips with his. “Fine,” you murmured against his smile. “A movie first, then dessert.”

You pulled him from the kitchen, leading the way into the living room and over to the couch. Felix sat down, grabbing the remote and turned the tv on as you settled in next to him. He flipped through the options, settling on one and starting the film quickly.

It only took a few minutes of your fingers playing with his hair for him to pull you onto his lap, hands on your hips as you grinded on him, moaning into each other’s mouths. “Fuck,” Felix groaned, hand resting on the back of your neck. “You’re so fucking hot,” he moaned as your hips moved, grinding against his erection.

“I need you, Lix,” you whined, hands resting on his shoulders. “You need me, yeah?” he asked, looking up at you through heavy lids. You nodded quickly, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. “Fuck, I better give you what you need then, hadn’t I?”

You scrambled off his lap, taking his hand and pulling your boyfriend up the stairs, heading for the bedroom where you shut the door after him. Felix was on you as soon as the door shut, hands grabbing your hips and guiding you to the bed before he pushed you back onto the mattress, discarding his shirt and climbing on top of you.

“You’ve been locked away in your study so many nights,” you whispered as Felix kissed a path down the side of your neck. “Have I been neglecting you, baby?” he mumbled against your skin.

You nodded, breathing heavily as you felt his hands move to undo your pants. “I’m sorry, angel,” he continued as he started to pull your pants and underwear down, discarding them on the floor before pushing your thighs apart, settling between them on his stomach.

Your walls clenched around nothing as he eyed your glistening sex hungrily, licking his lips before meeting your gaze, his eyes boring into yours.

“Let me make it up to you.”

Felix awoke with a start, sitting up and gasping as he looked around the dark room. Light pattering against the window told Felix that it was raining. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he pulled himself from the tangle of sheets, glancing back at you sleeping peacefully beside him.

Glancing at the clock, the red numbers read three thirty-three. ‘The Witching Hour,’ Felix thought as he slowly got up from the bed, careful to not disturb you. He walked towards the bedroom door, turning the knob slowly and pulling the door open.

The hall outside was dark, the pattering of rain was louder as Felix cautiously stepped out into the corridor, the wood creaking under his bare feet. He stopped just outside the opened bedroom door and looked around, the small plug-in lights creating a line of lights along the corridor floor.

As he started forward towards the stairs, Felix turned his head towards the study. The door was shut firmly as he had left it earlier. He headed down the stairs, looking over the railing into the living room. Upon reaching the landing, he turned and walked into the living room, glancing around.

His eyes strained, trying to see in the low light. He saw nothing out of the ordinary and let out a sigh, now truly wondering what woke him up. He started for the kitchen with the idea of getting a glass of water when he heard a soft creaking to his left. He turned his head quickly, finding the small door under the stairs ajar.

Felix moved to one of the end tables between the sofa and the loveseat, turning on the lamp and adding some illumination to the room. He continued forward slowly, keeping his eye on the door until he reached it. Taking the knob quietly, he pulled the door open and reached inside, pulling the string for the overhead light.

Inside the tiny storage space, nothing was out of the ordinary. Everything seemed to be in place. Perhaps you had gone into this space earlier and didn’t get the door shut completely. Felix tugged the string, throwing the space into darkness before backing up and closing the door, making sure the latch clicked.

He turned and headed into the kitchen, moving to grab a clean glass and get some ice water. As he was sipping on the water, he heard what sounded like knocking and looked up before moving around the counter and into the living room again. He strained his ears, listening for any sound over the soft pattering of rain on the roof.

He walked over to the door and peered out one of the windows on the side of the frame. He saw nothing and turned on the porch light, still seeing nothing. Shrugging, Felix turned the light off and headed into the kitchen to set his empty glass in the sink before making his way to the stairs.

Just as he was about to take the first step, a series of slow, heavy, and evenly paced knocks rang out from behind him. He froze and turned around to look at the door, his pulse starting to beat more heavily. He moved slowly, walking back to the window and peering out. Through the glass he could see a dark shadow standing on the porch.

He pulled back and stared at the door. ‘Who could it be this late?’ he wondered. Deciding to take another peek, his eyes widened when he saw the figure was gone. ‘I really shouldn’t open the door,’ he told himself. ‘But as long as I keep the outside door shut and locked it should be fine, right?’

He took a deep breath, taking the door knob in one hand as he turned the deadbolt, unlocking it with a click before he turned the knob and pulled open the heavy wooden door. The outside door was locked still as it was when he locked up the house for the night.

Outside the porch was empty, just like it had been the last time he peered outside through the window. Felix leaned against the door, looking to the sides of the porch the best he could before he let out the breath he was holding. ‘There’s no one here,’ he told himself. “You’re seeing things,” he whispered, taking a step back and closing the door and engaging the lock.

He shook his head, chuckling to himself before starting up the stairs. As he reached the top landing, his smile fell as his eyes landed on the door to his study. The door that he knew had been closed when he went downstairs not twenty minutes ago was now ajar.

Felix glanced towards the bedroom and then back to his study as his feet slowly and quietly carried him forward. He reached the study and carefully pushed the door open, looking inside. The lamp on his desk was on but other than that, nothing seemed to be out of place.

Felix let out an exasperated sigh and stepped into the room and turned off the lamp, throwing the room into darkness. He glanced out the window, doing a double take when he noticed a dark figure standing in the backyard. He rushed to the window but the figure was gone. ‘What is going on with you?’

Felix shook his head and pulled the sheer curtains shut. As he turned back for the door, his breath caught in his throat. He could see a dark figure standing in the corner. His heart rate increased, a cold chill breaking throughout his body and a shiver running up his spine at the sight.

A dark heavy feeling settled in his stomach as his mouth started to run dry. ‘Just ignore it,’ he told himself. ‘It will go away if you ignore it.’ He focused his eyes on the door and started towards it, pretending as if he hadn’t seen the figure. Just as he reached the door, his body betrayed him and his head turned slightly to look at the dark figure which was now next to the door and next to him.

Felix’s lips parted but before he could call out for you, he felt a hand around his neck as the figure grabbed him, lifting him clean off his feet and slamming him against the wall quickly. Felix clawed at the hand around his throat as the figure leaned in, sniffing him before he heard a deep, almost demonic voice say “it’s not you.”

It let go of his neck and Felix fell to his feet, coughing as he reached up to massage his neck. The dark shadow pinned him against the wall, growling dangerously. “Wh-what do you want?” Felix managed to croak out, his voice hoarse and weak. “What do I want?” the figure asked. “I was summoned here.”

Felix’s eyes widened. The incantation, the one he told you was just gibberish. It had brought this? Was it a demon? Before Felix could voice any of his questions, the figure spoke. “I know what you are, witch,” it said. “But I also know you didn’t summon me, so tell me,” the figure continued.

Before it could ask its own question, a voice called out and Felix’s heart dropped into his stomach. “No,” he whispered as the figure turned its head, letting out a chuckle. “You’re not alone,” the demon said. “It must have been her.”

Before Felix could protest, the demon dropped him, throwing him to the floor. Felix looked up but the dark figure was gone. “No,” he said, scrambling up to his feet and rushing out of the study, his feet thudding against the wooden floor as he made for the bedroom.

Upon entering, he looked around wildly as you sat up and turned on the lamp on your bedside table. “What’s wrong?” you asked as Felix looked around and finally moved over to the bed, making sure to check under it before looking in the closet. “Felix?” you asked softly as he moved to look out the window into the backyard but saw nothing.

“Felix, what’s wrong?” you asked again as he moved to the bed and sat back down. “Nothing,” he answered. “I thought I saw something,” he added before waving his hand and pulling the covers back and draping them over his legs. “Let’s just go back to sleep, love,” he murmured.

You nodded, turning off the lamp and settled back under the covers, Felix wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer. “Goodnight,” you whispered as he placed a couple kisses on your shoulder. “Goodnight, angel,” Felix replied, his voice soft in your ear.

He wasn’t sure when he fell asleep but Felix awoke with a start, blinking rapidly as he looked around. He was no longer in bed. He was instead sitting in the chair in the corner of the bedroom.

“What the-” he tried to push himself up but found he couldn’t move. ‘Sleep paralysis?’ he wondered before looking down and saw he was bound, quite literally, to the chair. White strips of cotton tying his wrists and ankles to the arms and legs of the chair.

“What the fuck?” he whispered, looking down and trying in vain to free himself.

“Don’t even bother,” a voice said and Felix looked up. The dark figure was standing in the corner, glowing red eyes looking at him and sending a chill up his spine. “You won’t be getting out until I’m done.” Felix stared back at the creature. “Done? Done with what?” Felix asked.

The figure began to move towards the bed. “Don’t,” Felix warned as the shadow stopped near the bed. Felix watched as the figure reached forward and turned on the bedside lamp near you.

Expecting to see a grotesque demonic presence, Felix was shocked when a young man, seemingly no older than he, came into view. He had shoulder length blond hair that fell in soft waves, half of it pulled up into a ponytail with strands framing his face. He was tall and slim, wearing a fitted black suit.

“Don’t what?” the man asked, his voice smooth and clear. “Don’t touch her?” he continued. Felix struggled against the bonds holding him in place. “She summoned me, did she not?” he asked as one hand moved to take hold of the covers. “I said don’t!” Felix snapped.

The man looked up, his red irises burning into Felix. He moved around to the foot of the bed, bringing him closer to Felix’s position, and took a seat. “Do you really think you’re in a position to be giving orders?” the man asked, tilting his head to the side. Felix said nothing, only staring back at the demon.

“Don’t touch her,” Felix said again. The figure sighed and quick as a flash, the chair Felix was sitting in was pushed back, the demon had him in another chokehold. “I’ll do whatever I want,” he growled, his voice demonic and low again. “She summoned me. Not you.”

Felix stared up into the red irises. “So if I want to fuck her and make you watch, I will.”

Felix struggled to speak, spitting out the words. “Didn’t know--” The demon let go of his throat, watching as Felix coughed. “She didn’t know what she was doing. I’m the witch here. Not her. She doesn’t know what any of this is.” The demon let the chair fall back onto all four legs as he stepped back, tucking his hands into his pockets. “What’s your name, witch?” he asked.

Felix looked up at him, the position he was in made him feel inferior. Like he was beneath this creature. “Felix,” he finally spat out, the contempt and fury he held for the creature finally surfacing. “Felix,” the creature parroted. “Nice to meet you Felix, I’m Hyunjin.”

Felix narrowed his eyes. “I don’t care what your name is,” he started. “My girlfriend isn’t a witch. She doesn’t understand what she was doing so you need to leave her alone,” he hissed. The demon, Hyunjin, smiled again. “Do you know what she said in that spell?” he asked, cocking his head.

Felix nodded, not needing to think about it.

“Gajang--”

“In English, if you would please, Felix,” Hyunjin interrupted, the smirk on his face never faltering.

Felix glared at the demon, mustering as much hatred as he could.

“I summon you from the depths of hell and likewise bind you to me,” Felix answered finally.

“Exactly,” Hyunjin replied. “But she didn’t know!” Felix countered as the demon moved from the foot of the bed. “She was just reading it! She thought it was gibberish!”

Hyunjin turned to look at Felix, now standing beside your sleeping form. “Gibberish? How could she possibly think it was gibberish?” he asked. “Because she doesn’t understand Korean. She can speak the words and read them but she doesn’t know what they mean unless I tell her,” Felix explained as Hyunjin walked back over.

“Are you being facetious?” the demon asked. Felix shook his head vigorously.

“I’m not.”

Hyunjin let out a sigh and stood up straight. “Regardless,” he started. “I was summoned. I have to complete the ritual.” Felix struggled against his restraints as the demon moved to your side of the bed. “Stop it please! Stop!” Felix pleaded. Hyunjin held up his hand.

“Shhh,” he whispered. “You’ll wake her.” ‘That’s it! Wake her up!’

Felix opened his mouth to call out to you. To wake you up but Hyunjin was on him in seconds, taking Felix’s chin in his hand. “Do it and I’ll gut you then I’ll snap her neck” he warned his voice deep and demonic. Felix’s eyes widened and he nodded silently.

Hyunjin let go of Felix and returned to the bed, sitting beside your sleeping form once again. “Y/N,” he said softly. Felix watched in horror as the demon gently brushed his fingers along your arm. “Y/N, sweetheart,” he continued and it dawned on Felix that Hyunjin was speaking in his voice. Felix’s own voice was coming out of the demon.

You murmured in your sleep, rolling onto your back, one hand resting on your stomach and the other falling onto Felix’s empty space. “Y/N,” Hyunjin repeated in Felix’s stolen voice. “Baby.” Felix felt his blood boil as Hyunjin’s hand cupped your cheek. “Get your hands off of her!” Felix snapped.

Hyunjin looked up, red irises glowing as he glared at Felix. “I warned you once,” he said darkly. “Don’t make me do it again.” Felix felt a cold shiver run up his spine. Something in the demon’s voice made him freeze up. “I won’t hesitate to snap her neck,” he threatened.

“So stop talking.”

Felix nodded, looking from the demon’s eyes to your sleeping form.

You tried to open your eyes but your lids were too heavy. You weren’t sure what woke you until you felt a hand on your cheek. “Y/N?” you heard Felix’s voice. “Y/N, sweetheart,” he said again. You murmured, uncertain of the words leaving your lips. You heard a chuckle. “Shh,” you heard Felix say again.

“Felix,” you finally whined as you felt the sheets being pulled back. “I’m right here,” you heard him whisper, feeling his hand moving up your thigh to your hip, pushing your sleep shirt up past your hip. “Mmh, Felix,” you mumbled as his hand moved back down, dipping between your thighs.

“Oh shit,” you gasped, back arching as your fingers dug into the sheets. “Shh,” your boyfriend whispered again. “Let me take care of you.”

You felt his fingers push your panties aside, teasing your entrance, parting your lips and finding your clit. You let out a moan as he drew slow circles on your clit. “That’s it,” you heard him coo. “Part your legs for me.” You did as he asked, spreading your thighs. “Good girl,” you heard him purr. “So good for me. So obedient.”

Your lips parted in a moan as you felt his fingers sink into your heat. “Oh fuck,” he groaned, slowly pumping his fingers in an out of your cunt. “I can’t wait to be inside you,” you heard him whisper in your ear, his breath hot and heavy against your skin. “You want that?” he asked, chuckling softly as your walls clenched around his fingers. “Yes,” you breathed, tongue darting out to lick your lips.

You felt his lips connect with yours, moaning into his mouth as you felt his fingers curl upwards. “F-Felix,” you moaned, one of your hands moving to grab his wrist as he sped up his movements, thumb rubbing against your clit in time with the thrust and curl of his fingers inside you. “I’m gonna--” you gasped, thighs twitching as your orgasm approached.

“I know,” he replied. “So do it,” you heard your boyfriend groan. “Cum for me, baby girl. Come on my fingers.”

Your back arched, a high pitched moan leaving your lips as you came around your boyfriend’s fingers. You felt his fingers slow to a halt before he carefully removed them, leaving your walls clenching around nothing. “Good girl,” you heard his voice.

You felt the bed shift as he moved. “Lix?” you called out, eyes fluttering to open. You felt his breath hot against your core. “I’m right here, baby,” he replied, hands resting on your hips. “Keep those pretty thighs open for me.”

You relaxed, head falling back against the pillows as your eyes struggled to stay open. You let out a whimper as you felt his tongue against your clit, slow deliberate licks until his lips connected with your clit, softly suckling, teasing occasionally with his tongue.

Your body shuddered, sensitive after your first intense orgasm. The slight burn only added to the pleasure as your boyfriend continued to toy with your clit, bringing you to the brink only to pull back at the last second, leaving you teetering on the edge.

“Felix, please,” you whined. “Please let me cum.”

You felt him chuckle against you. “Only because you asked so nicely, baby,” he murmured. Your hand moved, fingers threading through his hair as his tongue moved against your clit, each flick bringing you closer and closer until you finally came with a mewl, thighs threatening to close on your boyfriend’s head, but he managed to keep them open, allowing you to ride out your high until your body shuddered from sensitivity.

“Lixie, please,” you whined. You felt him press light kisses along the inside of your thighs, giggling when he playfully nipped at your skin. “That tickles,” you breathed. You felt the bed shift, Felix kissing up your hip, playfully sinking his teeth into your skin before continuing kissing up your body and the side of your neck. “God you’re so pretty,” you heard him whisper in your ear.

“Felix,” you giggled as his hands skimmed over your body, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You felt him smile against the skin of your cheek, breath fanning over your ear. “Crazy thing actually,” he said softly.

“I’m not Felix.”

Your eyes snapped open. The first thing to greet you was the red lighting of the room. It was your room but it also wasn’t. You gasped as the man on top of you lifted his head and you finally got a look at his face. He was handsome, extremely so with plush peach lips and shoulder length blond hair. His red irises burned into your eyes and you found it hard to look away.

“Hello there,” he said, his voice no longer masked by your boyfriend’s voice. “What the f--” you started but he pressed a finger to your lips, effectively silencing you. “Shh,” he said softly. He pulled his hand back, replacing it with his lips. You pulled back. “What’s going on?” you asked.

“Who are you?”

He smiled, tilting his head as he studied your face, before cupping your cheek. “I’m Hyunjin,” he answered, thumb stroking your cheek. “Where am I?” you asked, trying to sit up but his weight prevented you from moving. “You’re in your bed,” he replied.

He turned his head to the side and you followed his line of sight where you saw a floor to ceiling mirror taking up most of the wall beside your closet. That definitely wasn’t in your room.

Your eyes widened as you looked at the mirror. The mirror clearly wasn’t reflecting what was happening around you. Instead, it was almost like a window to your room where you saw yourself sleeping peacefully in your bed, Felix beside you.

You turned your head back to look up at Hyunjin. “Is this a dream?” you asked and Hyunjin nodded slowly. “It is,” he confirmed before leaning down, pressing another kiss to your lips. “Doesn’t that make me a bad person? Dreaming about another man?” you asked, feeling your breath catch in your throat.

Hyunjin’s free hand had slipped between your bodies and was slowly dragging up and down your slit. “No,” he answered, shaking his head. “I’m merely a figment of your imagination, Y/N,” he explained. “When you wake up, you won’t even remember this.”

Your eyes fluttered shut as you felt Hyunjin’s fingers push into your cunt again, lips parting as you moaned. “Oh f-fuuuck,” you moaned, back arching. Hyunjin chuckled, dipping his head down to kiss down the side of your neck. “That’s it, pretty girl,” Hyunjin whispered in your ear.

“Don’t worry about anything else. Just listen to the sound of my voice.”

Felix glared at the demon hovering over you, his head was ducked, lips near your ear as he whispered. You were stirring in your sleep, whimpers and moans leaving your lips despite his hand not even leaving your cheek. “What are you doing to her?” Felix asked softly, knowing full well the demon could hear him.

Hyunjin pulled back and turned his head to look at him, his red irises glowing still.

“I can’t just physically take her,” Hyunjin explained. “I have to infiltrate her dreams first,” he added.

“Come on, Lix,” Hyunjin said with a smirk and Felix narrowed his eyes. “You’re a witch but you know all of this. This is amateur stuff.” Felix gritted his teeth as Hyunjin turned his attention back to you as you whispered a word. Felix felt his stomach drop.

You had whispered a name. Hyunjin’s name.

Felix felt a pang. A stab of betrayal but he couldn’t focus on that. He knew you were in some kind of trance. It wasn’t your fault.

“Perfect,” the demon said softly and moved his hand to grab the covers, pulling them back. “Don’t touch her, please,” Felix pleaded. Hyunjin ignored him, pulling the covers down to the foot of the bed. “Don’t touch her!” Felix hissed as Hyunjin slowly ran his hand up your leg.

“What are you gonna do?” Hyunjin asked, turning to look at Felix, a smirk on his lips.

Felix struggled against his bonds as Hyunjin moved slowly, unbuttoning his top and shrugging it off. His skin seemed to have an aura to it and he glowed. Hyunjin’s hand moved to remove your shorts, pulling your underwear with them. “Please,” Felix begged, feeling his eyes burn as tears started to form.

Hyunjin scoffed as he discarded your clothes, pushing the hem of your shirt up to expose your chest adorned in soft pink lace that left little to the imagination. “She wear this specifically for you?” Hyunjin asked, turning to lock eyes with Felix who tried to free his hands.

His eyes widened as the sound of fabric tearing met his ears. Hyunjin had ripped the bralette down the center, exposing your breast. “Stop, please!” Felix sobbed, pulling violently at his bonds, his eyes squeezing shut as he struggled. He heard Hyunjin click his tongue.

“Now, now,” the demon said mockingly. “You’re going to miss it if you aren’t watching.”

Felix opened his eyes to glare at the demon, his lashes wet with tears that had finally spilled, staining his red cheeks.

Hyunjin’s smirk widened. “Great. Now that I have your attention,” he said as he undid his belt and pulled it free, letting it fall to the floor with a clatter, hands moving to undo the button and zipper of his pants.

“Enjoy the show.”

“This feels so wrong,” you whispered as Hyunjin kissed down the valley of your chest. “Oh,” he said softly against your skin. “But it’s not real,” he reminded you. You let out a sigh, moaning as he sank his teeth into your skin. “Then why does it feel so real?” you gasped as he kissed his way back to your lips.

“Are you telling me you’ve never had dreams that felt real before?” he mused, not giving you a chance to answer as he took your lips in a messy, wet kiss, tongue moving against yours languidly. “No, I have,” you replied when he pulled away. “But they’ve never felt like this.”

Hyunjin chuckled, pushing his long tresses from his face as he knelt between your thighs. You hadn’t had the chance to notice until now that he was entirely nude. Your eyes traveled down his chest, taking note of his slim but toned body already glistening with a layer of sweat.

Before your eyes could continue past his navel, he clicked his tongue, almost in disapproval and you glanced back up to meet his gaze. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you that it’s rude to stare?” he asked teasingly.

You felt your cheeks burn under his heated gaze as he chuckled, his hand moving to push your knees further apart, spreading you more for him. You glanced quickly down, your own body obscuring your view of his cock as he guided the tip to your entrance.

“And you promise this isn’t real?” you asked softly, causing him to look up from where your bodies were about to connect. He gave you a breathtaking smile and nodded. “I promise,” he replied softly.

“None of this is real,” he added before slowly pushing into you. You let out a gasp as his length glided easily into you, stretching you open yet you felt no pain. No sting that usually accompanied the stretch.

It was entirely unfamiliar yet familiar at the same time. It was different from how Felix felt. Hyunjin was bigger, not just in stature. “Relax,” Hyunjin whispered, moving one of his hands to your thigh, rubbing soothingly. “That’s it” he continued as he glided further.

“Relax and let me in.”

“So f-full,” you murmured as you felt Hyunjin bottom out. He chuckled, his hand moving from your hip up to gently grope your chest. Your walls fluttered around his cock, gripping him tightly. “Such a responsive slut,” he chuckled and you moaned loudly.

Hyunjin gave you a couple slow thrusts, allowing you to feel every curve and ridge of his cock before he set a steady pace, pumping in and out of you at a torturously slow speed.

“Faster,” you gasped as you felt his thumb brush over your nipple. “Faster?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Please,” you pleaded. “Want more. Need more.”

Hyunjin chuckled, his hand moving back down to your waist. “If that’s what you want,” he replied, picking up the pace, his hips hitting yours with each thrust.

Your back arched off the mattress, moaning wantonly. It wasn’t like you shared any walls with any neighbors and regardless, this was a dream anyway.

Felix watched Hyunjin parted your thighs. From his position, he couldn’t see much but the demon had you completely naked and spread out before him.

“Please,” Felix sobbed softly as he turned his gaze away. He could hear your soft moans and the thought of watching another man have you the way he had you, the thought of another man making love to you, had his stomach churning.

“You’re going to want to watch this,” Hyunjin called but Felix shook his head, refusing to look.

“Watch this or I’ll snap her neck,” the demon snapped, his deep gravelly voice enough to force Felix to look back. He could tell Hyunjin had bottomed out, cock shoved inside you. “Just stop please!” Felix cried.

“Why won’t you just leave us alone?”

The demon chuckled but punctuated it with a groan as he pulled back, hips snapping forward and driving his cock back into your walls. You let out a moan, eyes still shut as Hyunjin set a steady pace.

“She gave me permission, you know,” he heard the demon say and Felix glared at Hyunjin.

“She’s asleep. How can she consent to this?” he growled, anger flooding his senses. Hyunjin chuckled, his hands moving to your hips and holding you in place as he continued you fucked you against the mattress.

“You like that, Y/N?” he asked, addressing you directly.

You moaned in response. “Words, sweetheart,” Hyunjin said, his voice steady and calm despite the way his hips moved. “Y-yes,” you choked out. Felix’s heart skipped a beat. ‘It’s not real. He has her under some sort of spell. She doesn’t know what’s going on!’ he told himself.

“She’s really enjoying herself,” Hyunjin said, addressing Felix now.

“Such a good little slut,” Hyunjin scoffed, giving you a harsh thrust, making you cry out. “Don’t hurt her!” Felix sobbed. “Please. Just… don’t hurt her,” he repeated. The demon chuckled lowly but said nothing else, slowing his thrusts to a roll. Your moans came from the back of your throat, deep and almost guttural.

“Hyun-Hyunjin!” you gasped. Hearing you say another man’s name had Felix crying harder. He felt entirely powerless. He could do nothing but sit there and wait for the demon to finish having its way with you and leave. He could do nothing but watch.

He hated the demon. He hated Hyunjin. And most of all, he hated himself for bringing that book into the house. Had he known, he never would have brought it in. He would have left it in Hongjoong’s shop for eternity. When everything was said in done, he would have to return the book to the shop in the morning.

“Oh fuck,” he heard Hyunjin growl. “She’s so fucking tight,” he continued. “Are you even fucking her properly?” Hyunjin scoffed, his voice strained. Felix felt anger and jealousy bubble up in his chest.

How dare he imply Felix didn’t satisfy you. The two of you had always been honest and communicated about your sexual needs with one another and never once had you expressed anything other than satisfaction. You often praised his performance.

You let out a small moan, almost a whimper of pleasure and it made Felix’s heart sink in his chest. He hung his head, silent tears falling from his eyes onto the material of his gray sweats. ‘Please let this end.’

“Fuck you feel so good,” Hyunjin murmured, slowing his hips and pulling from you. Letting out a whine, you reached for him, protesting as you felt him leaving your walls empty and aching for his cock to return. “Come here,” he said softly, grabbing your arm and gently but firmly pulling you up and flipping you over onto your stomach, facing the mirror.

He was behind you, pushing your knees apart with his own and guiding the head of his cock back to your waiting hole. You moaned as he slipped back in easily, his hips meeting your ass as he buried himself balls deep inside you. “Hyunjin,” you gasped.

He leaned over your back, keeping himself propped up as he wrapped his arm around your chest and resumed thrusting into you, the new angle allowing his cock to hit deeper and making you cry out. “Oh sweetheart,” he panted in your ear. “I’m gonna have you screaming by the end of the night,” he murmured before throwing all caution out the window.

Your fingers dug into the sheets under you as he pounded into you, the sound of skin on skin filling the room but not covering the sounds of your whimpers and moans.

Your mind went blank, almost numb as all thoughts left your mind and the only thing you could focus on was the mounting pleasure in the pit of your stomach and the flexing of Hyunjin’s muscles around you as he tightened his hold on you, hips slamming against your ass. Your moans and cries growing in pitch.

“That’s it,” Hyunjin grunted in your ear, his voice dropping an octave. “Scream for me. Say my name.”

“H-Hyunjin,” you sobbed, your body writhing under him from the intensity of the pleasure coursing through your veins. “Louder,” he ordered. “Scream it.” You cried out his name as he rammed all of his length into you at once, driving the head of his cock as far as he could and you swore you felt it in your stomach. ‘Is it bigger than it was a minute ago?’ You were sure he wasn’t that big before.

“What’s the matter, baby? Cat got your tongue?”

You moaned, head lolling as he thrust into you harder. “Am I fucking you that good? Has your mind gone completely blank?” You moaned in response, eyes fluttering shut as your walls spasmed around his cock, gripping him tightly.

“Fuck, keep squeezing my cock like that and I’ll cum,” Hyunjin growled in your ear. “You want that, don’t you? Want me to fill this pretty cunt with my cum.” Your walls clenched around his cock again and his hand moved up, taking your jaw in his hand.

“Open your eyes, slut,” he growled. Your eyes fluttered open. The reflection in the mirror had changed. You were looking at yourself. Facing yourself with Hyunjin behind you, his red irises glowing in the dark and burning into yours.

His appearance in the mirror had changed slightly. Half of his blond hair was pulled up into a ponytail and two black horns were protruding from his forehead, curving back over his head and the tips curling inward on themselves. Your eyes widened. What the fuck were you seeing? Was this still a dream or was this real? The line between dream and reality had blurred and you couldn’t tell anymore.

“What are--” Hyunjin tightened his grip, holding your jaw in place. His sharp, pointed nails digging slightly into your skin. “Stop talking,” he growled. “Just lay there and take it like the whore you are.” Your walls clenched around his cock at the degrading name he hurled at you.

“Look at you,” he chuckled lowly. “So desperate to get fucked you’d let any man have you, isn’t that right?” he asked. ‘No,’ you thought. ‘That isn’t true.’ The truth was that you only wanted Felix. You only wanted your boyfriend. Even with this stranger fucking you in your dreams, you wanted Felix.

“No,” you answered, trying to shake your head but the demon’s grip was too strong. “I wasn’t asking you, slut,” he scoffed. You met his burning gaze in the mirror. ‘Not asking me?’ you wondered. ‘Who could he possibly be talking to?’ It was then you noticed something else just on the edge of the reflection.

A body sitting in the chair in the corner of the room. Your eyes widened. ‘Felix?’ It was indeed your boyfriend. His head hung in shame, wrists bound to the arms of the chair and his ankles likewise bound to the legs of the chair. “F-Fe-lix?” you stammered. At the sound of your voice, your boyfriend raised his head, eyes meeting yours in the mirror.

“No,” Hyunjin growled. With one final thrust, your eyes rolled back as your orgasm hit you. You felt Hyunjin tense on top of you, his own orgasm washing over him as he released inside you. You could feel the warm gush of cum enter your cunt and the stalling of Hyunjin’s hips as he buried his cock inside you before everything went black.

Felix woke with a start, sitting up and crying out.

It was morning. He looked around quickly, eyes scanning the room but he saw no sign of the demon Hyunjin nor did he see any sign of you. He glanced down and noticed he was naked. He looked around for his clothes.

‘What the fuck happened last night?’ he wondered as he turned, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and leaning forward, resting his elbows on his thighs as he covered his face with his hands. He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, not enough to hurt but enough that the blackness of his vision was littered with stars.

He finally pulled his hands from his face and sat up straight, inhaling deeply before letting it out. His clothes were on the floor beside the bed and he snatched them quickly, pulling on his sweats and then the shirt. He made his way over to the door, turning the knob and opening the door.

He was greeted by the sound of sizzling and the smell of bacon. He allowed his feet to carry him into the hall and to the top of the stairs where he heard soft voices and your light laughter. He hurried down the steps and turned around the railing to enter the living room.

In the kitchen, you stood at the range, cooking breakfast. You looked up, smiling as you met his gaze.

“Well good morning, sunshine,” you said as he stood in the doorway. “We have a visitor,” you continued, nodding towards a figure sitting at the table, hidden from Felix’s view with a newspaper. Felix murmured an apology as he walked into the kitchen, scratching the back of his head as he moved around the counter and over to where you stood, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Morning,” he murmured and moved to pour himself a cup of coffee, preparing it the way he liked before he sat at the table across from the figure. You moved to set a plate of food in front of Felix, a spatula in one hand and donning your pink apron.

“You didn’t tell me your cousin was coming to visit,” you said, lighting patting his shoulder as Felix picked up his fork. His eyes widened as you turned away and headed back into the kitchen. Felix turned his gaze from your figure to the newspaper before him. ‘I don’t have a cousin.’

You prepared another plate and walked over to set it in front of the guest. “Oh,” he said with a chuckle. “Thank you,” he added in an all too familiar voice.

A voice Felix thought had been part of the horrible nightmare he’d experienced.

He watched in horror as the newspaper lowered and the familiar face of Hyunjin appeared with a smile. “It’s just like Felix to forget to mention me,” he said as you moved back to load the last plate and take a seat between Felix and the demon now sitting at his dinner table, enjoying a breakfast cooked by you, his loving girlfriend.

How did you not recognize Hyunjin after last night? Did you forget everything? If the oblivious smile on your lips was anything to go by, Felix could assume you’d forgotten the events of last night.

“We had a rough night last night,” you said, turning your gaze on your boyfriend and smiling at him sweetly. “I hope he wasn’t too rough on you,” Hyunjin joked and Felix watched the way you inhaled a sip of your water and started coughing.

Before he could react, Felix watched with a mix of anger and jealousy as Hyunjin leaned forward and patted your back firmly, a look of concern crossing his features. “Are you alright, Y/N?” he asked. “I’m sorry,” he continued. “That was inappropriate of me.” You shook your head, taking another sip of water. “No, it’s okay,” you said, waving your hand.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Felix’s knuckles turned white, his grip on his fork handle tight as he tried to decide whether he should eat or stab Hyunjin in the neck. “I’m also sorry for dropping in like this,” Hyunjin explained. “Unannounced. It’s just that I’m passing through and haven't seen my dear cousin in so long.” Felix narrowed his eyes at the demon, wanting to smack that smug grin off his face.

You smiled kindly at Hyunjin. “Well you’re more than welcome to stay with us for a few days,” you offered and Felix felt his heart sink, his stomach dropping simultaneously as he looked from you to Hyunjin who was already looking at Felix. “That’s so kind of you,” Hyunjin replied, staring directly at Felix, his red irises burning into the latter’s eyes, holding his gaze.

“I think I’m really going to enjoy your hospitality.”

ⓘ Graphics made by me. Content and support banners made using a template by cafekitsune. I do not allow reposts, translations, or continuations of my works. All writing and graphics are ©️ kwanisms.

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flaresemily · 1 month

Text

The past rewritten itself (Qin Shi Huang)

This is actually one of my drafts that I have been keeping for a long time now so...ENJOY!!

Being an emperor has its perks. And being forced into a marriage well…that doesn't fit right. But that's what happens to Qin Shi Huang.

He doesn't really love y/n but he doesn't hate her either. Well…just imagine them as…friends yeah! Friends after all friends don't betray each other right!....right?

You were walking towards your husband's room to give him the homemade mooncake you made with the chef/baker in the kitchen.

As you get closer, you hear some…uh well what they call the unholy sounds.

You were shocked and you dropped the mooncake. Qin probably heard the thud quickly get up and rush to the ‘door’.

As he opened the ‘door’ he saw the mess on the floor and saw your figure running away.

He realizes his mistake and quickly runs after you. (after he clean himself)

From them on,you never talked to him. Making him well…obsessed on getting you to pay attention to him. (You don't know he kill the woman he slept with)

The more days passed he always saw you talking to that one guard. He was so jealous he decided to accuse you of cheating.

It was your birthday that the whole of China is celebrating.

As you were sitting there drinking. Qin Shi Huang suddenly stood up and stand In front of the others.

“My dear beloved country, I have something to announce.”

Everyone was waiting.

And finally…

“The empress is cheating on me”

A lot of ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ can be heard.

You were shocked.

That's when people started to ‘boo’ at you.

Throwing you things and insulting you.

For a few days or weeks you have mental breakdowns; he even accused you of being pregnant with another man's child.

But what he didn't expect is for you to get kidnapped and be tortured by his people. He didn't know that they were so loyal that they dared to kidnap the empress and give her a ‘taste of her own medicine’

He realizes it when one of the old couples came to his throne room and reported it to him.

He asks his guard to check your chamber. But you were nowhere to be found.

Then, he received another news that you are getting executed In front of others.

He quickly left his palace and went to the town's square.

There…the people tied you up to the poles they made just for you. They put on a small flame to burn your legs.

You were screaming and crying and begging to be let go. Trying to tell them you were innocent.

But they wouldn't listen and continue to torture you slowly and painfully.

Then, the final punishment came.

He saw what was about to happen and quickly shouted

“NO!!!”

And stab you were stabbed already. Not once….but multiple times.

And finally your eyes as if looking at him…look at him with hurtful betrayal eyes.

You love him so much and yet…this is what you get all because you just want to give him a mooncake. Then, if you didn't bring the mooncake would you still be alive?

You were left there…dying slowly as blood started to spill out of you.

He manages to get on ‘stage’ and cradle you in his arms sobbing.

“No…y/n sob don't please!” The man cried.

As the crowd begin to lessen he carries you in his arms but he was stopped by the guards who later on snatched the corpse from him.

All he can do is watch you get taken away again.

This…is what happens when you frame your own wife. Saying that she's been sleeping with a lot of men and accusing her of carrying another man's child…

When in reality…it was you (talking about himself not readers) all along.

In Valhalla

He was walking around searching for his room when he came across a beautiful woman…

She looks exactly like you.

And she was holding a child that looked exactly like him.

But the thing is, someone else wrap his arms on your waist pulling you closer.

And it was…none other than

Hades

#female reader #anime #x reader #manga #yandere #platonic #request are open #qin shi huang #records of ragnarok #hades ror #qin shi huang x reader #beelzebub ror #angst #light angst #hades x reader

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somanyratsinthewalls · 2 months

Note

Congrats on 700!!!! You absolutely deserve it!!!!!

I'd eat up anything eggshell, but can I get bat please 👉👈

HI FRIEND thanks for requesting! This is only my second or third time ever writing Killer sooooo I'm still getting into it, but I tried my best!

Pairing: Massacre Soldier Killer x Female Reader

Prompt/Trope: Exhibitionism

Summary: You opt to join Killer on an exploration trip instead of drinking with the rest of the crew. It takes some convincing, but Killer decides to loosen up a bit.

MINORS DNI!!!

WC: 2100

TWs: voyeurism, non con voyeurism but they're all open about it, unprotected sex, p in v sec, size difference ah!!!! steamy hot spring onsen sex, killer keeps his mask on sorry yall I'm feeling canony

Take a Dip (+18)

— —

You sit at the kitchen table flipping through your old pile of gossip magazines for what seemed like the billionth time. You had your head in your hand while you finished up reading “Hottest Ramen Spots on the Grand Line” for the 5th time. You let out a long sigh.

Killer, who was cleaning out the refrigerator across the room from you, picked his head up and turned in your direction.

“What plagues you, tiny thing?” Killer stands up straight and wipes his hands off with the dish cloth that was slung over his shoulder.

“I’m so fucking BORED!” You slam your magazine closed and toss it haphazardly towards the end of the table. Kid promised you would make land today, which delighted you to no end. It had been weeks on this stuffy ship and you were excited to get off and stretch your legs for a bit. You had gotten ready to go early in the morning, basically skipping through the Victoria Punk’s hallways as you made sure you had everything you needed for an excursion.

That was until Kid decided the safest thing to do would be to head to the town after nightfall. He thought the crew would attract less attention if they arrived under cover of darkness.

“But I want to go now!” You whined in protest.

“And I want to be King of the Pirates!” Kid had shouted back at you. “Sometimes things don’t go your way!”

And this was how you ended up slumped at the kitchen table nursing a warm, half drank beer while going through trashy magazines.

“The sun’s gone down already, I’m sure we will get off soon.” Killer begins wiping off the kitchen counters with disinfectant.

“I can only read ‘6 Vibrators You Need to Buy RIGHT NOW’ so many times before I stick my head in Victoria’s coal engine.” You sigh.

“Hmmm… can you order those straight from the magazine, or..? Because you’re a bit cranky, I guess I could get you an early Christmas gift. ” Killer says as he continues meticulously cleaning his kitchen. You can hear a smile in his voice, he must have a cheeky grin on his face underneath that damn mask.

“Yeah yeah yeah okay whatever.” You roll your eyes. You feel your cheeks heat up a bit, so you turn your body away from Killer to hide your blush. You grab another magazine to further disguise your flushed expression.

The galley door was kicked open and you whipped your body around. Killer turned around from his place at the sink, hanging up a pair of rubber gloves.

A heavy thud of combat boots and a flurry of red hair had burst into the kitchen.

“Let’s go, assholes!” Kid grinned at the two of you before retreating to the deck.

— —

The Kid Pirates strolled through the quiet, gas lamp lit streets of this remote town, Kid leading the way, no doubt towards whatever bar was still open. It was easy top spot, being the only business with their lights on and a hot pink neon sign blaring in the foggy window. It seemed this sleepy little town was so small that the main square seemed to only consist of a few buildings.

There was a pub, a butcher, a general store, and few other essential businesses, along with an old school Onsen hot spring further up the road a bit on a grassy hill. Kid holds the pub door open for the rest of you but you noticed Killer staying back. You’re about to enter the bar but you turn around to shout at Killer who was still in the road.

“You’re not coming?” You question.

“Yeah come on, loser, let’s get fucking drunk!” Kid shouts from above you, still holding the door.

“Not tonight. I want to see if anything else is open. We could use some supplies.” Killer holds his ground and starts walking up the road.

“Wait for me!” You call out and duck under Kid’s giant metal arm to hustle up to Killer in the road.

“Oh come on, y/n! You’re my good time girl!” Kid pouts at you.

“I’m sure there’s plenty of girls looking for a good time in there!” You give Kid a sarcastic smile and a wave as you jog down the cobblestone road.

You finally reach Killer and keep your pace quick to match his… his legs were much longer than yours. You walk together in silence for a few minutes, nothing heard but the clicking of your boots on the road and the dull hum of grasshoppers.

“Why did you want to come?” Killer eventually asks you.

“I dunno. We sit and drink all the time, I’d rather do something different while we’re out.” You say as you watch your feet, trying not to trip over the craggy road beneath you.

“I see.” Killer states plainly.

You walk without saying anything for awhile again as the two of you reach the top of the hill. The onsen comes into view. You see the hot springs gently cascading down from one azure pool to another, steam radiating heavily out of the pool to dance upwards into the crisp air.

“Oh, Kil! Come on!” You break off from Killer and run towards the pools.

“Y/n, they aren’t open.” Killer waits in the road.

“Okay? And we’re pirates? Who cares? Come on! Come get in with me!” You say as you skip over to a particularly large, stone pool and kick off your boots.

Realizing you weren’t going to be swayed, Killer grunts in frustration and heads over to where you were undressing.

“You realize anyone can see you like this out here?” Killer reminds you, not taking anything off himself, just watching you.

“And? God, Kil you’re really being a buzzkill tonight.” You rip your shirt over your head, leaving you in your jeans and your bra. “It’s almost like you’re going soft…” You tease as you unhook your bra and toss it to the side. Your naked breasts bounce freely and you didn’t need to see through Killer’s mask to know exactly where he was looking.

Killer lets out a long sigh. He then rips his blue t-shirt over his head, your eyebrows raising as his golden, washboard abs and pecs are exposed to you. You quickly strip off your jeans and panties and step into the pool.

“Ohhh…” You groan as you sink further into the relaxing, hot waters. You felt your tired muscles release and the grit and grime of the sea melt off your skin. You hear movement in the water behind you and you turn around to see Killer already in up to his waist. You pout at him playfully, as you didn’t get to see him fully nude before he got in.

“Happy now?” Killer chided as he stalked towards you at the other end of the hot spring. He slowly gets closer and closer to you.

“Hmmm…. Almost…” You bite your lip and look up at the blonde’s hulking form that was now right in front of you.

“Oh? And what would make you happy, tiny thing?” Killer asks as he brings his left hand to gently play with your hair. He was standing and you were sunk down into the pool… your face was so close to his hard cock, bobbing just under the surface of the water.. he could have pushed your mouth on it in a second…

You hop up and sit yourself on the stone edge of the pool and spread your legs, presenting yourself to Killer.

“I want you to fuck me, Kil.” You reach your hand down and spread your lips with two fingers, showing Killer exactly where you wanted him and how badly. Killer takes a split second to decide what he was going to do before pouncing on you entirely. He pulls your head into his chest and uses his other hand to line his throbbing cock up with your hole.

“You want this, little one?” You feel it rumble through Killer’s chest.

“Please…” You whisper out.

Killer hikes you up fully into his embrace. Your wrap your arms around his neck and lean your forehead into his mask. Killer sinks you down onto his cock swiftly, plunging it into you in one smooth thrust, holding you up with your knees over his forearms as he impaled you on his member.

“Aaah… fuck!” You cry out and throw your head back as you feel yourself being stretched so deeply. Killer grunted as he gripped your ass cheeks even harder to toss you up and down on his giant cock as he stood in the hot spring.

You tangle your hands in Killer’s long blonde hair spilling out from behind his mask. He gave you an extra hard thrust in response which made you yelp.

“Such a tight little thing…” Killer huffs out to you as he pumped his hips upward into you at an unrelenting pace. “Must have needed this bad, huh?”

“Y-y-es! F-fuckk so g-good!” You slam your eyes shut and you can barely get out coherent words with how fast Killer was slamming into your cunt. Suddenly you were spun around and felt yourself being lowered on your back onto the stones lining the hot spring. Killer ripped your legs apart by your knees and moved to stand between them, tapping his weeping tip on your clit teasingly.

The hand that wasn’t teasing his cock against your sex was reaching up to grab at one of your breasts harshly. You start to moan under his touch when he abruptly slams his cock into you to the hilt again without warning. You yelp.

“AH!”

“Quiet, sweet girl… you don’t want the whole town to hear you like this, right?” Killer coos down at you as he thrusts into your messy pussy from above.

“Ahh- K-kil! I-I’m close!” You feel your muscles squeeze and that familiar tingling in your lower half starts to reach its peak. This only increases the speed of Killer’s thrusts.

“FUCK!” You ignore Killer’s warning and you let out a loud moan to the starry sky as your orgasm hits you.

“That’s a good girl…” Killer pulls his cock out of your hole as he feels you finally stop spasming around his shaft. He steps forward to stroke himself quickly over your flushed body. Your eyes had hardly returned from the back of your head when you felt hot ropes of cum splatter against your chest and abdomen.

After a few seconds of catching his breath, Killer scoops up your body from the cool stone and places you gently on his lap as he sinks the two of you into the hot spring. You feel the hard nuzzle of his mask against your forehead as he gently wipes the cum off your chest under the water.

*clap*

You pick your head up from Killer’s chest.

*clap* …. *clap* …. *clap*

“What the fuck is that?” You say as your eyes scan the area.

*clap clap clap clap clap*

“Bravo!”

*wolf whistle*

*clapping continues*

“Nice show, kids!” You finally were able to pinpoint the unknown speaker.

You were all but mortified as you see Kid, Heat, and Wire all hanging drunkenly off the wooden fence to the Onsen.

“What the fuck! How long were you there- Kid… are you eating??” You shout as you cover your breasts instinctively, Killer’s protective hand coming up to replace it yours.

“Yeah-“ Kid shoves another handful of chips into his mouth. “I didn’t think we’d come across something as interesting as you guys fucking in the hot spring, so I brought a snack.”

“Yeah and honestly the chewing was really distracting.” Heat chimed in. “You should really close your mouth, dude.”

“What? So you can perv-out over your crew members some more?” Kid spat back.

“Captain, you were the one who suggested we ‘stay to catch the end.’” Wire adds. "Nice choice with the cum shot, by the way. I'd have done the tits too."

“I NEVER SAID THA-“ Kid spouts off but Killer interrupts him.

“If you’re finished arguing, the show is over.”

You feel Killer’s grip on your naked body tighten.

The trio turns tail and continues squabbling with each other as they stumble back to the Victoria Punk. You can’t help but giggle a bit.

“What’s so funny, little one?” Killer whispers into your ear.

“Your jealousy is showing, Kil.” You laugh as you lay your head back against Killer’s bicep. You bring your hand up to hold his mask. “You know I’m yours.”

“I know.” Killer says softly as he strokes your back. “I just think we should charge them to watch next time.”

#one piece #one piece fanfiction #one piece fanart #one piece anime #one piece live action #one piece netflix #one piece fandom #one piece smut #captain kid #one piece kid #killer op #op killer #massacre soldier killer #one piece killer #killer one piece #eustass captain kidd #kid pirates

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sihtricfedaraaahvicius · 9 months

Text

Note: I didn't plan this, but it is awfully fitting how my last fic of the year is the closing chapter to the first fic I ever wrote. Thank you for your patience, I hope it was worth the insanely long wait (sorry!), and a big thank you to everyone who reads my silly little stories. It truly means more than you can imagine!

Warnings: mention of violence, blood and slavery.

pairing: Sihtric x Princess!reader (f)

summary: everyone faced the consequences of Sihtric's previous actions.

wordcount: 3,4k

Masterlist

Part I: The Dane.

Part II: The Truth.

Part III: The Lust.

Part IV: The Pain.

Part V: The Fight.

part VI: The Battle.

You slowly regained consciousness while you were being brought to the chambers of Lord Wiltshear, your bare feet dragging over the cold and wet stone floor as the guards held you up with ease. You had lost your shoes somewhere on the town's square, not too long ago, when you were abruptly captured and taken away before Sihtric, your Dane husband, could reach you through the crowd.

Your head was spinning and a headache taunted you as you vaguely remembered that your husband had won the fight of which you were the prize. You had given up everything to marry Sihtric, whom you had fallen in love with, and it had also been a way to escape a horribly dull life by being married to Lord Wiltshear, who was at least twice your age.

You quickly recalled how the Lord had tricked you all by not fighting a fair fight, and having someone fight for him when Sihtric had called to make the square. That someone who was now dead, his body still bleeding out at the centre of the town after Sihtric had hacked his axe into the poor man's skull. You remembered how the Lord then demanded you to be his slave, instead of his wife, and how he had ordered his guards to seize you and imprison you, while Uhtred and his men didn't stand a chance to save you.

You then remembered the last thing you heard before you were knocked out was Sihtric's voice. His gut wrenching hoarse voice, the sound of it still echoed in your head.

'My love!' Sihtric had shouted, 'meet me in Valhalla!'

You swallowed hard at the memory, and you felt defeated as much as you were confused. You were taken from Sihtric. You were taken away from your lover, your husband, your Dane. And as you were taken, the last thing he had shouted at you was something about Valhalla, which he knew you didn't really believe in.

'Meet me in Valhalla.'

His words sounded in your head over and over again as you felt your eyes tear up. How could he have been to stupid, so careless. How could he have suggested you as the prize for their stupid fight after he had provoked the Lord.

'Meet me in Valhalla.'

You heard his voice clear as day and you shook your head, angry and saddened at everything that had occurred. Not just today, but ever since you first saw Sihtric. You were sad at how you had finally married the man of your dreams, the man of which your father, Alfred, claimed to have had a prophetic nightmare of, and now you were torn apart… again. As if neither of you hadn't suffered enough. And you remembered how you had heard Sihtric's words before, those exact same words before he had shouted them at you from across the town.

'If I die,' Sihtric had said as he had given you his dagger, 'then meet me in Valhalla.'

'Valhalla,' you whispered as your eyes shot wide open while the guards dragged you towards a large, iron door.

You remembered the dagger and how it was tucked underneath the skirt of your dress, strapped to your thigh. You remembered the secret fight training you had received from Hild, a nun at the monastery you had escaped from with Beocca, as she knew you would always be a target because you were a princess. And with that knowledge, you pretended to be unconscious again while the guards unlocked the door to your prison.

Outside of the castle you had been dragged into, a shield wall had been formed after Uhtred's voice had ordered the position over the roaring crowd. The town's people were bewildered at the formation, while the guards of Wiltunscir were scattered amongst the peasants and unable to form a decent defence against the wrath of your husband and the warband that had secretly travelled not far behind with you. When Uhtred had fetched Beocca to arrange the marriage between you and Sihtric, he had also immediately called for men to join him, as he figured things could turn grim, and they had.

'Forward!' Uhtred shouted, and the wall moved one step closer towards the enemy, 'forward!' he ordered again, and they slowly closed in on the guards and warriors of Wiltunscir.

While Uhtred ordered his shield wall to move forward, several guards of the town had moved up into the castle towers on the Lord's commenad, armed with bows and arrows. And it didn't take long before they fired their arrows in a desperate attempt to save their Lord and his legacy.

'Shields up!' Uhtred shouted as soon as an arrow shot right overhead, missing him by a hair.

The first line of men knelt down, the second line of men threw their shields over the men below in front of them, and the third line of men held up their shields above the men who shielded those before them, and so on. It rained arrows and rocks were being thrown too, but Uhtred's men were prepared and had brought their own archers, who fired back with flaming arrows. Several guards up in the towers had caught on fire and fell down to their deaths after they had leaped off the castle in blind panic.

'My wife!' Sihtric shouted when he felt as if they weren't making progress fast enough, 'I have to get to my wife!'

'We know!' Finan huffed under his shield as an arrow hit and poked through, right before his eyes, 'mother of Christ!' he breathed after the close call, 'you can't get to your wife right now!'

'I can make a run for it,' Sihtric yelled, without truly thinking.

'You can't run until all the archers are down, Sihtric!'

'I can,' Sihtric hissed as he tried to count the remaining archers on the walls.

'No!' Finan grunted, 'even if you'd made it, you have no idea how many guards are with her!'

'I can take them-'

'Don't be so bloody stupid!'

'She's my wife, Finan!' Sihtric yelled, desperately.

'Exactly! She's your wife! Whose life you put in danger by making her a prize!' the Irish man snarled, 'you've done enough rash things already today. Just wait!'

'No,' Sihtric huffed and peeked from underneath his shield, once again counting the archers that were still standing in the towers.

'Don't do it!' Finan gave the Dane a slight shove back, 'it's too much of a risk!'

'My wife!' Sihtric gasped, and he pushed himself out of the shield wall.

'Sihtric! Stay in line!' Uhtred shouted.

With trembling hands, covered in blood, you slowly stepped through the dark and cold passage you had been dragged through. Your dress was drenched with blood and your face was covered with splatters of the same red. You had managed to take the guards by surprise and wildly stabbed into them, ensuring their deaths while being covered in their blood. The smell and its taste made you gag, and you desperately tried to steady your shaking body as you slowly made your way back into the daylight. Your head was still spinning while the sound of swords clashing against shields and men shouting their last battle cries came closer. You held Sihtric's dagger in one hand as you stepped closer to the top of the stairs, overlooking the town's square, overwhelmed by the violence that had occured while you had been dragged away, and was still ongoing.

You saw countless dead bodies all over town. People with arrows in their chest and some with their heads hacked off. Arrows flew through the air in all directions, men were fighting with weapons and bare hands while women fled with their children. And it was all witnessed by Lord Wiltshear, who watched from a distance while he was guarded by several men. Your eyes scanned the lifeless bodies with terror, in fear of finding your husband amongst them. And just as you began to cry, you suddenly heard the familiar voice of Uhtred belt out your husband's name.

'Sihtric! Stay in line!'

Your head snapped up into the direction you had heard Uhtred's voice coming from, and there you saw him, Sihtric, your husband, running across the battlefield as if his life depended on it. And it did, his life truly depended on how fast his legs could bring him to you, while he held his shield up above his head to protect himself from the arrows that were now aimed at him, as Lord Wiltshear's eye had caught your husband running towards you and shouted an order to take down the Dane. Sihtric locked eyes with you as he ran and jumped over the fresh corpses that were in his way, and he didn't take his eyes off you until he finally ran up the stairs of the castle and reached you. And when he reached you he wrapped his arm around you as you grabbed onto his armour, and he kept his shield up to cover you both while he held you tightly pressed against his chest. Then, he slightly leaned back to take in your appearance and a panic came down over him.

'T-the blood-'

'Later,' you cut your husband off, 'we have to hide. Now!'

You took his hand and pulled him with you, to seek cover inside the halls of the castle you just escaped out of, but before you reached the doors you felt Sihtric's hand slip out of yours. You looked back over your shoulder to see your husband standing still with his hands up, while two of Lord Wiltshear's guards held him at swordpoint. They forced him to drop his shield and they took his axe and sword, all while Sihtric kept his jaw clenched and his eyes on you. You watched how the guards disarmed your husband, and every time you wanted to interfere, Sihtric gave you a quick stern glare with his eyes which told you to not make a move.

Then, you heard Lord Wiltshear order his men to stop fighting, and Uhtred followed his lead. Everyone lowered their weapons slowly and turned to face the old Lord who shuffled his way up the stairs to you and Sihtric, while several guards kept you separated.

'She belongs to me,' the Lord said to your husband, out of breath after climbing the stairs.

'Never,' Sihtric hissed, and the sword that was pressed against his skin drew blood at his slight movement, 'she's my wife!'

'She was promised to me, the beautiful princess,' the Lord sighed, 'but since you have fouled her, she will be nothing but a slave,' he looked you up and down as he stepped closer, 'hm, a pleasure slave, perhaps,' he grinned, and you almost gagged at the sight of his dirty, yellow stained teeth.

'You will be dead before your filthy fingers can touch her,' Sihtric spat, then hissed in pain as the blade marked his throat once again.

The Lord muttered something under his breath, after which his guards then kicked Sihtric down to his knees. You gasped and attempted to run to him, but you were harshly restrained by another guard. The Lord laughed as he took in Sihtric's furious glare at the guard who held you captive.

'No, I shall not make her a pleasure slave,' the Lord then said, 'she shall be just a slave. I will try to remember to give her food and water every now and then,' he smiled at Sihtric and waved at the guard to take you to the chambers, again.

'No! Take me,' Sihtric shouted desperately as he tried to escape the guards, but he got shoved back to his knees.

'Take you?' the old man furrowed his brow.

'Take my life instead of hers. Let her live freely and make me your slave.'

'Sihtric, no!' you cried as you fought the guard off, 'you can't-'

'I am much stronger than her,' Sihtric continued, and the Lord signalled the guard who had grabbed you again to a halt.

'Interesting,' the Lord mumbled as he studied Sihtric, who was covered in cuts and bruises after the recent battle, and tears had welled up in his mismatched eyes.

He feigned his bravery, you knew it, you could tear he was terrified but he would not allow himself to break in front of the Lord.

'I- I can fight,' Sihtric went on, 'I can do heavy work. Make me your slave, Lord, and let the princess go.'

You bit your tongue as you stared at your husband, while Lord Wiltshear was seriously considering the offer as he knew he was right. He knew that Sihtric would make for a good slave. But the last thing you wanted was Sihtric to become the one thing he had escaped by leaving Dunholm when he was young; a miserable life of slavery.

Across the square Uhtred and Finan watched the bargain with shock. They both knew they could not stop the negotiation and that the outcome would be grim, regardless of the choice Lord Wiltshear would make. A deafening silence lingered while the Lord went over his options, until he clasped his hands together and smiled.

'Very well,' he said, 'the heathen will be my slave and the princess will be escorted back to Wessex. Where I'm sure a punishment will be waiting.'

'No!' you screamed as the guards picked Sihtric up from the dirty ground and shoved him towards the passage that you had escaped from earlier, while Uhtred and Finan yelled something inaudible in protest.

Sihtric fought his tears and clenched his jaw as he was shoved past you, and you could only stare into his eyes with your own teared up pair while you felt yourself become dizzy. Everything seemed to spin around you while your heartbeat sounded in your ears, and it felt as if the ground beneath your feet was crumbling away.

'You,' the Lord said to Uhtred, 'will leave at once, take the princess and deliver a message to the King for me. Tell him that I still want my promised wife, but that it will not be this one,' he stuck up his nose to you, 'tell him that I will be waiting-'

Suddenly the Lord stopped speaking and everyone gasped when they saw the arrow sticking out of his chest, which had punctured his heart in the middle of his preaching. The Lord looked down at the arrow as blood began to slowly pour down and stain his brown robes, and he looked up at the towers where his archers had been. Everyone followed his gaze, in shock, only to all be absolutely baffled that there was no archer to be seen. There was not a trace of whoever had fired an arrow at the Lord, and everyone turned their gaze back to the old man, who then stumbled backwards and fell as he took his last breath. Everyone stared at his body, which was still twitching, and you slowly looked up at Uhtred, who looked as bewildered as everyone else. But his bewilderment soon made place for the opportunity he saw, and he quickly spoke up as he stepped onto the stairs that led to the entrance of the castle and to you.

'Your… your Lord has just died,' Uhtred said, still trying to grasp the situation like everyone else, 'I know there is no heir, which means you are now without a ruler,' he said sternly as he spoke to the townspeople, 'you have no reason to fight anymore, you have no one to give you orders. So I suggest you drop your weapons and surrender, and we will leave here in peace. We do not wish to bring harm upon anyone. I will take back everyone I came with here, and we shall leave you in peace.'

And as Uhtred spoke, the folk slowly began to drop their weapons and surrendered, knowing this was the safest outcome for everyone. And like everyone there, the townsfolk also did not wish to fight, they only fought because they were ordered to by their Lord. But their Lord was now dead, and once that started to soak in, a soft murmuring amongst the people began.

'Lord Uhtred,' one man said, 'we cannot be left without a ruler.'

The crowd started to nod and agree with the nameless man, and more and more people began to ask what would happen next and who would be their new ruler.

Uhtred looked at you with questioning eyes. You knew exactly what he meant to ask you, and you nodded in agreement. You slowly walked to the stairs, your blood soaked skirt clutched in your trembling hands as you carefully stepped down until you were halfway. You cleared your throat and gazed around the town and its folk, who all stared at you with a newfound hope in their eyes.

'I,' you said, and were immediately interrupted when someone shouted at you to speak up.

With flushed cheeks you cleared your throat again and held your chin up high, you were a princess after all.

'If you, the people of Wiltunscir, would accept me as your ruling Lady,' you said with confidence, 'then I promise to not let you down. I promise to protect this town and its people, I promise to bring wealth and safety. I promise peace.'

The crowd listened to you in silence. Some looked at you with doubt and some looked at you in awe. And when your words began to sink in, you noticed a shift, and people began to clap. First slow and rather quietly, but then more firm, and more people joined in and some even began to cheer and whistle, until eventually the entire crowd had joined.

Uhtred walked up the stairs and he took your hands, 'Are you sure you want this?'

'Yes,' you sniffled with a smile, 'I cannot return to my father. The Lord was right about that, there will be a punishment, one I do not wish to endure. I wish to stay here, with my husband.'

Uhtred gave you a firm nod and turned to the crowd, he unsheathed Serpent-Breath and held it up high.

'Kneel before the Lady of Wiltunscir,' he ordered with a firm but respectful tone.

You chuckled lightly and felt rather embarrassed when the crowd did as they were told, and then you began to realise you were now, all of the sudden, the Lady of Wiltunscir. You gasped and quickly turned around, looking at the guard who had held you captive only moments ago.

'Guard,' you said, 'release my husband at once!'

'My Lady,' the guard said and bowed his head, then ran through the doors that led to the prison chambers.

'You think I'm stupid?' Sihtric scoffed at the guard who held the iron prison door open for him.

'Your release was ordered.'

Sihtric furrowed his brow and scratched his head, then cleared his throat.

'Yeah, I'm not falling for that,' he said.

The guard dropped his weapons and stood back, his hands held behind his back.

'The Lady requested your release, Lord,' the guard said.

'Lord?' Sihtric chuckled, 'wait… Lady?'

Sihtric opened his mouth to speak again, but then closed it when it suddenly dawned on him.

'By the Gods,' he mumbled, and then carefully left his prison.

He slowly passed the guard and kept an eye on him, but when the guard didn't move, Sihtric began to run. He ran through the hallway he had been forced through, past the two guards you had killed, and he only stopped when he almost reached the doors, seeing his axe and sword on a wooden table, and he quickly grabbed them. He hesitantly stepped closer to the doors and finally through them, only to see you waiting outside, halfway down the stairs, with Uhtred next to you and the people of Wiltunscir knelt down before you.

You looked back over your shoulder and smiled when you locked eyes with your husband, then hiked up your skirt and ran up the stairs as you began to cry tears of joy and relief.

'My love,' you breathed as you fell in his arms.

Sihtric held you tightly wrapped in his arms, and only pulled back to take your face in his hands and give you a kiss like never before. And when you smiled at him, Sihtric shook his head in confusion.

'I- I'm not sure I understand what is going on,' Sihtric said as he held you close and looked at the kneeling crowd, and then at Uhtred, who grinned at Sihtric's confused face.

'You're a Lord now, my love,' you smiled.

'What?' Sihtric chuckled.

'I present to you,' Uhtred then shouted to your people, 'the Lord and Lady of Wiltunscir!'

taglist: @clairacassidy @finanmoghra @uunotheangel @hb8301 @bathedinheat @neonhairspray @anaeve @bubblyabs @travelingmypassion @sylasthegrim @andakth @chompchompluke @willowbrookesblog @lady-targaryens-world @skyofficialxx @elle4404 @alexagirlie @sweetxime @solango @gemini-mama @cheyennep3107 @little-diable @jennifer0305 @drwstarkeyy @mrsarnasdelicious @verenahx @urmomsgirlfriend1 @moonchildrenandflowercrowns @foxyanon @djarinsgirl27 @sigtryggrswifey @liandav @diiickbrainn @sihtricsafin @lexwolfhale @dixie-elocin

#sihtric kjartansson #sihtric #the last kingdom #tlk #sihtric x reader #the last kingdom fic #sihtric x you #sihtric fic

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 9 months

Text

New Beginnings

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: fluff

Summary: New city. New job. New school. New apartment,. New neighbors. New beginnings.

Square Filled: choose your own au for @spencerreidbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

This is a new start for you. New city. New apartment. New neighbors. New job. A fresh start from your old life. Growing up, you’ve always been a small-town girl with hopes of moving to a big city to chase her dreams. Back home, everyone knew everyone’s business. Like when Shelly from church was caught having an affair with the pastor. Her husband found out that day and both of them had to leave town to avoid the scrutiny of everyone else. Or like the time when your sister got pregnant and only told a small group of people only to go to work the next day and people knew.

Small-town folk aren’t for everyone which is why you left while you could. The only problem is that all your family is back home. You know no one in Quantico, Virginia. You guess that’s the best part about it. You can reinvent yourself and create a whole new life separate from what you’ve known.

Before moving to Virginia, you got yourself enrolled in night school for graphic design since you’ve always wanted to be a designer. You’ve done some work for your town like making websites for businesses and making some ads for smaller companies but you want to know more so you can do bigger and better things.

Tomorrow, you’ll scout the city and find a coffee shop to make your second home, find the nearest grocery store, etc. Right now, all you’re focused on is getting all your boxes out of the moving truck so you can return it before the deadline. You’re doing it by yourself but you don’t have a lot to do. You never had a lot when you left your hometown but it’s still a lot for one person to do.

It takes you all day to get everything inside your house, and the only thing you’re able to unpack is your bedframe and mattress. It’s going to take all week to get most everything set up which is fine because night school doesn't start for another two weeks.

You live in a building that sits in a circle of other buildings with a huge courtyard in the middle. The courtyard consists of a dog park, a pool, a volleyball set, and some outdoor furniture where people can sit and eat. Your building is right across from another so you can see into people’s apartments if their curtains are open.

Your phone rings and you answer it while admiring the other buildings.

“Hey, mom.”

“Y/N! Did you get in okay?”

“Yeah, I just set up my bed. I’ll start unpacking tomorrow.”

“I’m sad you’re so far from us but I’m happy for you. Does that make sense?” she chuckles. “Anyway, your dad and I will come visit as soon as he gets this new promotion. He’ll get some time off and we can always use the vacation.”

“Yeah, by then, I’ll have seen some places we can go to. You like history and Virginia is a history-rich state.”

“Okay, I just wanted to know if you got in safe. Your dad and I are going out with the folks from church. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Sure. I love you.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart.”

The building across from yours is close enough to where you could communicate with another resident if you shouted but you’re not going to disturb others, especially at night. The sun is still up but is quickly going down, leaving the sky with pretty colors. There is a young man sitting on his small balcony with a book in his hands minding his own business. Every apartment has a small balcony where people can sit and enjoy the fresh air, but most of them use it for storage.

The young man runs his fingers down the pages of the book and flips through the book at a shocking speed. Is he really reading that fast? He must feel your eyes on him because he looks up and makes eye contact with you. You give him a small wave to which he returns before going back to reading.

You look at the boxes inside your room and see a label on one of them that reads: ARTS AND CRAFTS. You open the box to see thick small poster boards you were using for a project back home. Next to them are your markers so you grab the black one and a handful of poster boards. You write “Hi, my name is Y/N” on one of them before going back outside.

The man looks up just as you hold up your poster board for him to see. You wrote the letters in a thick font so he is able to read them from where he’s at. He reads what you have and leaves the balcony to go back inside his apartment. The smile is lost from your face at the thought of making him uncomfortable but then he walks back out with poster boards of his own. He writes something down on his and shows it to you.

Hi. My name is Spencer.

You like reading?

I love it.

You new here?

No, been here 13 years. You new?

Yes, I came from Kansas.

Job?

Graphic Designer. You?

FBI.

Sounds exotic.

Spencer smiles at this. Some of his nighttime preparations are to read for an hour before bed, and he was at the forty-five-minute mark when you two started talking.

I have to go. Talk tomorrow?

Tomorrow.

Spencer packs up his poster boards and heads back inside, and you follow suit a few minutes later. You’re going to need to buy more poster boards if you want to continue talking to him across the courtyard. Tomorrow comes and you end up finding a grocery store, a coffee shop, and a place that sells a lot of poster boards.

Spencer must have a day job because you didn’t see him at all while you were unpacking. You started with the kitchen and barely finished with it by the time Spencer got back from his job as an FBI agent. Wow, imagine that. A real-life FBI agent. You’ve only seen them in movies and TV shows so it's kind of cool you get to say you know someone in that field.

You sit on your balcony and wait for him to come out. Ten minutes go by and you see the light in his place turn on. Five more later, he walks out on his balcony with poster boards in hand. He doesn’t look too good. Yesterday, he had a natural glow about him but today, he has a sort of sadness about him. Still, he’s out here talking to you because he enjoys your company even though you’re in separate buildings.

You okay?

Rough case.

You want to talk?

Can’t. Open investigation. Of course. Duh. He flips the poster board over and scribbles something else on it. How was your day?

Good. Just school. I graduate Fall 2027.

Field of study?

Graphic Design.

Anything I’d see of yours?

You grin and write down a website you helped design before showing it to him. He takes one look at it and types it on his phone. He admires your work and thinks it’s amazing work. You have real talent.

I like it. You’re talented.

Even from where you’re at, you can see how sad he is. You’re not sure what he’s dealt with today or what he is going through, but you hope to make it better at least a little bit. You have to use two posterboards for this to get your message across.

Don’t let your job strip you of who you are. No job is worth it if you’re losing yourself.

You got Spencer to smile.

Same to you.

As the days progress, you and Spencer make it a nightly routine of talking to each other through poster boards. During the day, you’re unpacking boxes and getting your home ready while Spencer is at work dealing with the worst of the worst. His job isn’t easy but seeing you every night lifts his spirits.

That is until he stops showing up. You gave him a couple of days without bothering him since he might be caught up in something for work, but after seeing his light every night without him coming to the balcony, you know something is wrong. You don’t know who he is fully, but you do know that he would come talk to you if he was feeling up for it.

“Any sights of your secret lover?” one of your best friends, Marcy, says over the phone.

“No, he’s still held up in his apartment,” you say and look out the window to his.

“I bet he’s not even an FBI agent. Maybe he lied to you,” Rebecca, your other friend, says.

“I don’t think so. Maybe he just needs some time alone. I don’t know a lot about him. He can only fit so much on small poster boards.”

“It’s giving You Belong With Me by Taylor Swift,” Marcy chuckles.

“I think you should go over there and talk to him face-to-face.”

“Yeah, I have to agree with Bec. It’s not like he’s your next-door neighbor. If it doesn’t work out, you don’t have to see him in passing.”

“True,” you bite your lower lip. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

“Let us know how it goes,” Bec smirks.

“Oh, I will. Wish me luck.”

“Luck!” both girls say at the same time before hanging up.

You turn back to Spencer’s apartment and see the light peeking through the curtains. You count the number of floors he’s off the ground and the number of apartments he’s at from the wall so you know where to start. You’re not sure what you’re going to do when you get there but you’ll think of something on the spot.

You have some cookies left over from when you made some a few days ago, so you box those up and make your way over to the building across from yours. Your keycard works for this building even though you’re not a resident in it because you’re a resident overall. Once inside his building, you make your way up to the fifth floor and the tenth apartment from the wall.

Here goes nothing.

You knock twice on the door and wait for someone to answer it. It might not even be his apartment but you’ll try all of them if you have to. A few moments later, Spencer opens the door with a confused look on his face. When he sees you, his eyes widen slightly.

“Wow,” he breathes.

“What?”

“You’re more beautiful in person.”

Your cheeks heat up at his compliment.

“I brought you some cookies. I hope you’re doing okay. I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” he sighs. “Work has just been… yeah, it’s not fun sometimes.”

“I can only imagine which is why I brought some cookies.”

“Would you like to come in?”

“Yes,” you smile.

You walk inside and immediately notice all the poster boards he’s been using to communicate with you. He’s saved every single one of them and that brings a smile to your face. You never thought you’d meet someone this quickly after moving to a new city, but you’re glad you did.

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

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thescarletnargacuga · 2 months

Text

JUST KISS

A HARLEQUIN AU SHOWTIME ONESHOT

Harlequin AU credit: @tadc-harlequin-au @iamespecter

A/N: I'M SORRY! I could NOT get this idea out of my head for the life of me! Inspired by the marriage scene from Pirates of the Caribbean!

WARNING: violence

~~~

Chaos consumed the ruined City of Circuits. Hordes of crazed puppets swarmed the town square where Pomni, Caine, Kingr and the others were making a stand. Explosions rocked the earth. Buildings crumbled, burying dozens of enemies, only for dozens more to climb over the rubble. Thick smoke blotted out the sun.

Blasts of energy from Caine lit up the smogged sky. He kept an eye out for Pomni, fighting by his side. The situation was looking bleak. No matter how many enemies were cut down, more took their place. Surrounded on all sides, even with his allies, this could very well be their last stand.

Caine slammed his cane down and sent an electrified shockwave out, sending enemies flying and giving him enough time to grab Pomni's arm. "Pomni!!"

Pomni almost stabbed him out of reflex. She stared wide eyed at him.

Caine looked her dead in the eye. "Will you marry me!?" He shouted over the pandemonium around them.

An enemy bared down on them. Caine diverted it's attack with his cane and Pomni shot it in the face. She looked at Caine like he had finally gone insane. "I don't think now is the best fucking time?!?" She held tight to Caine's arm and used him to swing around to slash two enemies in half with her sword.

Caine reeled her in close, holding his cane out and electrifying an enemy. "Now may be the only time!" He blinked with her to another part of the battlefield, where they were a little less overrun. "I love you." He still has to let go and arc lightning from his cane to five enemies.

Pomni's sword ignites with energy as she sends a wave of gold light through a large enemy, slicing it clean in two. She grabs Caine's forearm as she takes his words in through the intense atmosphere.

Caine was breathing heavily, his voice raspy from exhaustion. "I've made my choice...what's yours?"

Pomni gazed into his eyes, a smirk on her face. "KINGR!!"

Caine furrowed with confusion.

"MARRY US!!" Pomni shouted to the former general, who was currently tossing enemies left and right.

"I'M A BIT BUSY AT THE MOMENT, LITTLE ONES!!" Kingr shouted back, his oversized hands crushing and tossing a half dozen enemies. He then punched out the support of an unstable building, collapsing it and blocking a route into the square.

Caine grinned and twirled Pomni to his other side. They dance into enemies on both sides. She energizes her gun with soul magic and laser blasts an enemy point blank. Caine summons three balls of lightning and controls them with his puppetmaster strings, sending them through enemy after enemy until the electrical energy dissipates. He backs up to Pomni. "Kingr! Now! PLEASE!!"

Kingr rolled his eyes. "FINE THEN!!" He swept his arm over a pile of rubble, clearing away any enemies, and stood atop it.

Caine put an arm around Pomni from behind. His cane joins her sword in stabbing an enemy. She looks back at him with a sharp toothed grin. He smiles at her.

"DEARLY BELOVED WE ARE GATHERED HERE TODAY-" Kingr punched downward with both fists, sending a shockwave of rubble and earth to keep enemies back from his perch.

Jax swung his hammer against one enemy, domino throwing three others. He hadn't heard Caine and Pomni but he definitely heard Kingr. "What the fuck??" He activated the spikes on his hammer and slammed it down onto another enemy's head.

"-TO JOIN TWO SOULS IN HOLY MATRIMONY!!" Kingr growled with frustration from being interrupted and crushed an enemy in his hand.

Caine and Pomni danced across the battlefield. Arms never unlinking. They cut and carve their way to the square center. Caine holds her close, face to face. "Pomni, dearest harlequin, do you take me to be your husband?"

Pomni, hyped on the energy of combat and genuine excitement of his question, nearly squeals her answer. "I do!"

Caine almost laughs at her out of character giddiness. "Great!!" They have to separate to avoid an attack.

Pomni carves her sword through the enemy. "Caine Puppetmaster, do you take me to be your wife?" She takes his hand again, he twirls her. She cuts down an enemy and he blasts two more. "In sickness and in health? Ah!" She ducked, he electrified. "With health being the less likely!!"

Caine blinked away with her again to give him a chance to properly hold her close. "I do." He poured his whole soul into those two words. He wished to tell her again that he loved her, but he had to move with her to avoid a tossed enemy from Z.

"AS GENERAL, I NOW PRONOUNCE YOU-" A shot to the face interrupted Kingr again. He swung around and batted the enemy away. "YOU MAY NOW-" He was grabbed from behind by a large enemy. He wrestled them to the ground. "YOU MAY KISS-" He took a punch to the face, cracking his skull mask. He returns to the favor by destroying the enemy's entire head.

Gangle had control of a large enemy, Ragatha on the shoulder. They were just as confused as the others on what was going on with Kingr. Then Ragatha saw Caine and Pomni take down two enemies together, their gazes locked.

"JUST KISS!!" Kingr roared as he pummeled another enemy.

They didn't hesitate. Caine held Pomni in a bow, blue energy engulfing his entire being. Gold energy surrounded Pomni as she held around his neck. They met in an intense, yet loving kiss. Their energies intertwined and blasted out from them. The violent shockwave of light and electricity vaporized every enemy within a large radius. Their allies taking cover.

Caine held his wife with reverence. Kissing her like it was the last time he'd ever get the chance. Pomni returned his passion tenfold, wordlessly vowing her devotion to her husband. As the energy wave faded, they breathlessly parted.

For the first time, there was tenderness in Pomni's eyes. "I love you."

Caine could be slain on the spot and die a happy man. "I love you, too. In this life, and the next...forever and always."

#the amazing digital circus #tadc #tadc fanfiction #tadc pomni #tadc caine #tadc showtime #tadc jax #tadc gangle #tadc harlequin au #harlequin au #tw violence #tadc kinger #tadc ragatha #tadc zooble

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attapullman · 4 months

Text

Whodunit? / Two

Summary: the one where identities are revealed and mickey cannot handle

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: 18+ only! f!reader, food mentions, swearing, 80s inaccuracies, mickey is a little horny

mo's note: for those who have been waiting for the six months since the last update - here it is! we get some baby sleuths! we get some cassie! do we have any theories on our culprit??

one / two / three / whodunit? masterlist

Past

On the first Sunday of Spring in town, everyone flocked to the fresh air to enjoy the bright, cloudless day. Townfolks swapped shopping for picnics in the park. Neighbors shared lawn secrets to the soundtrack of birds chirping. It was perfection in suburbia.

Brittany Willis was having her fellow second grade girls over for a garden tea party. The table was set with her mother’s nicest tablecloth, her grandmother’s chipped porcelain tea set, and a blooming bouquet of tulips freshly cut from the front walk. All the little girls sat on the front porch in their nicest Sunday dresses and white gloves, practicing lifting their pinkies while giggling and pretending to enjoy the blandly flavored hot water Brittany’s mom had served.

Across the street in the green house with white shutters, Maddy Floyd came downstairs to grab water. An act complicated by tripping over the two little boys crouched next to the hall window, cherub faces to the glass. Enraptured. Eyes glued across the street to the spectacle of pastel and lace. Maddy was still laughing at them as she poured herself a glass from the tap.

“What’s so funny?” At seven years old, Bobby still had yet to grow into his features - all big ears and oversized glasses. He gave his sister an unimpressed look from his spot on the floor, eyes still flitting to the girls from his class across the street. Mickey hadn’t moved a muscle from where he took in the scene through his binoculars.

Already old enough to drive, Maddy gives him an equally sassy look - in on a secret he’s years from learning. “Just think it’s funny you’re spying on the girls because you like them.”

The house erupts into noise as the two boys shout, “We’re not spying!” and, “We don’t like them!” in unison. Lucy, Bobby’s middle sister, yells down the stairs to keep it down.

“Mickey, you have binoculars. You telling me you’re bird watching?” The kid’s cheeks heat and he subtly shoves the spy equipment behind his back.

Bobby’s bottom lip scrunches as he squares up to his sister. “Girls are gross. We’re just…bored.” His sister raises her eyebrow in disbelief. “Mom said we can’t play outside until we clean the playroom. Had to get creative.”

Maddy almost felt tender watching her baby brother discover the fairer sex. As she brushed by him on her way back up the stairs, Maddy placed a hand on his tiny bony shoulder and held eye contact with both of the boys who continually caused mischief. “One day you won’t think girls are gross. And when that day comes, you won’t be prepared.”

Once his sister was securely upstairs, Bobby turned to his best friend with a sisters are the worst grumble. The sounds of the little girls across the street carried over, the tinkle of porcelain and giggles. The knobby kneed kid blew out his bottom lip.

“She’s wrong, girls are always gonna be gross.” He held out his littlest finger. “Pinky promise we can’t change our minds?”

The two boys linked pinkies and spit on the floor in unison before returning back to their reconnaissance mission: Finding out where Brittany hid their baseball yesterday.

Present

The dinner shift is starting when the investigating trio push through the heavy glass door. Meatloaf crumbled onto chipped plates. The prime rib always too rare or completely overcooked. Blondie still playing on the juke just like it had hours ago.

The guys can’t figure out why they’re at the diner. With their frequent trips to the checkerboard square haven to visit Mickey’s crush, surely they’d know if someone named Cassie was here. Hell, the town was small enough that they’d know if there was a Cassie within spitting distance. Instead there was the same ten elderly men who were here every night for their sodium-drenched dinner, and a handful of families enjoying Chef Jerry’s Sunday Special.

Not that either sleuth would voice it, but was being a police captain’s daughter enough credentials for you to be leading the group?

You slide into a sticky vinyl-bound booth and grab a menu, vaguely gesturing for your high school buds to join you. Your eyes scan the faded laminated paper without registering. The menu hasn’t changed since your grandfather was a deputy. And you only ever get fries and a shake.

While the guys begin volleying back and forth about whether it’s too late for a Coke, you turn to watch the other patrons. You’ve known this town your whole life, not a face in this greasy spoon a stranger to you. You know their habits, their families, their marital problems. This town has no secrets, and yet it evades you who could be so villainous as to steal money from the town. And right under your nose?

You hear your name drift over the crowd and see your friend, waving enthusiastically in your direction. Giving her a big grin, you beckon her over to your booth. The sleuths follow your gaze, curious, before Mickey turns the color of the cherry red vinyl behind his head.

“Cassie!” Jumping from the booth, you hug your new friend tightly, her slick ponytail swishing against your cheek. She greets you with the same gusto, pressing her grease-scented wrinkled uniform against your quarter-zip, apologizing for the stench.

Pulling back, she notices the two men watching the interaction, befuddled. She tilts her chin their way, tanned skin catching the light. “You know my regulars?”

“You know Danielle?” Mickey’s voice is drenched in disbelief, his eyebrows deep in his hairline as his hands shoot out across the table. Bob, best friend and wingman, grabs his shoulder to remind him they’re still in public - although his own head is reeling in this discovery.

They’ve been in this diner every day for weeks, sucking down malts, all so Mickey could work his charms on Danielle. An absolute betty - hair so shiny it reflects light, smile so sultry it kept the sleuth in a constant state of crushing. The name Danielle escaped Mickey’s lips so often they echoed around their apartment.

So why were you calling her Cassie?

You wrap an arm around Cassie’s waist, giggling as you realize the situation at hand. And impressed that the stupid name tag trick of hers had actually worked.

“Cass, you can let them in on the secret. I’ve known them forever, the most evil thing they’ve ever done is get a parking ticket.”

Under your teasing giggles, Bob mutters under his breath, “It was an accident, stupid loading zone.”

The glossy-haired waitress turns to the investigators and gives them a smirk. “Well, if she says you two are trustworthy…” She gives a wink that makes Mickey stiffen in his Levi’s. “I got sick of creeps at my last job cat calling my name. So now I’m Danielle.”

Despite their decades of sleuthing and hours of free time spent in the diner, even our hometown sleuths couldn’t have deducted that one.

The waitress and captain’s daughter finally plop into the booth, smiles abundant. One glance over at the table of young’ins and one would hardly believe there was a worry on their pretty little brows. That they were here to share malts and shakes before heading for a night out. No six-figure bank heist investigations going on over here.

You twist in your seat to look Cassie in the eye.

“We’re hoping you can help us.” She gives a shrug, a sure, what do you need? “You heard about what happened at First Local?”

To this she gives her head a shake, ponytail swishing through the air. She’s working a double and it’s been nearly dead until now. Biggest news is that the jukebox will only play Jackson Five.

You start to fill her in when Mickey cuts you off. This is his moment to impress Dani…Cassie. He launches into the logistics - the open vault, the missing money, and that you’re wrapped up in the middle. His smile can barely be contained in her presence. It’s the longest he’s held her attention since he recounted winning the third grade spelling bee. He’s basking in her focus, leaning on his elbows to be that much closer to her.

When he’s finally done, you shoot him an unimpressed look. “Yes, thank you, Mickey…Uh, anyway, we need to talk to Jake Seresin-” She cuts you off.

“I am not talking to him. He’s a tool.”

The boys snicker, approving of the waitress even more for hating their high school bully.

While you can’t fault her for pointing out the truth, you need some leverage if you’re getting in with the security guard. And you aren’t a complete idiot when it comes to the way his eyes follow her around when she drops by with a burger for you during the lunch rush.

“We can all collectively agree he’s…with fault, but he knows all the logistics of the bank. And there’s a secret door that only he knows about. We need to know what he knows.”

She cocks her head to the side, ponytail arcing through the air. The men are powerless to watching it float softly in the air. “And what makes you so sure that he is going to tell me what he knows? Isn’t the point of being a security guard that he keeps things, ya know, secure?”

You were banking on him being a sucker for tits, but she has a point.

You worry your lip between your teeth as you try to think of more leverage to convince her. Bob quirks a smirk - it’s been over a decade since he saw you do that before coming up with the winning idea at the science fair. Just like he trusted your prowess then, he knows you can motivate your friend to help. But it’s again Mickey who shamelessly jumps in for Cassie’s attention.

“I’d tell you my bank account PIN for a smile from you. Throw in a wink and Seresin will probably tell you how to break into the bank yourself.”

She gives him a hard look before exploding in laughter, her face warm and glowing under the florescent light. “Oh, Fanboy, you are smooth as ever.” She pauses, rolling a salt shaker between her palms. “Alright, I’ll at least try to talk to him. But if it blows up you all owe me double tips.”

Your fingers tingle as you feel the investigation finally take a positive turn.

From the back, Chef Jerry calls out for ‘Danielle’ and your friend gets up to leave, brushing the wrinkles out of her apron over her baby pink uniform. She promises to meet you in the morning at the diner before the bank opens. Then the interrogation begins.

Not ordering anything, your group heads toward the door to get some sleep after a long day. Just as the slick-haired waitress is about to disappear into the kitchen, Bob calls the name on her name tag. She raises her perfectly plucked eyebrows in interest.

His cheeks are pink. “Not to be, uh, forward, but it’s probably in the best interest that you wear something…lower cut? If we’re trying to honeypot the information out of him? Yeah?” He looks to you and Mickey for backup. Mickey tentatively nodding. You have the same face as when you found out gangly, bespectacled Bob Floyd lost his virginity junior year.The man has big ol’ balls when he needs them.

But the waitress laughs and agrees, shimmying her cleavage a little and cackling harder when Mickey turns scarlet. These boys are too easy.

You usher them out of the diner before they can do anything else. In the parking lot, you make them promise like good kids to meet you at the diner and be ready for a long day of investigating. When you finally turn on your heel and start the walk home to your fretful mother and exasperated father, Mickey lets out a sigh of relief.

“That girl needs to take a chill pill. We are professionals.”

The next morning you could feel your under eyes on the ground. You’d slept like shit, replaying the past twenty-four hours in your head over and over again. How could a day change your life so drastically?

It was a blessing that your dad was asleep when you got home and already at the station when you got up. In a world of consistencies, you could always bank on him being out the door by seven.

You slung on a band shirt that had seen better days and slipped out of the house unnoticed. You’d have to answer to some questions from your mother when you arrived home, but the last thing you needed was that right now.

The walk into town was short - the benefits of a town the size of a postage stamp - and before you finished reviewing all the evidence from the day before you realized there were two familiar figures standing outside that dusky pink apartment complex your dad said contained more meth than tenants.

“Well, well, if it ain’t the police captain’s daughter.” You elbow Mickey in the side. It’s almost weird to see them twice in twenty-four hours - practically back to being school children again.

You look at the half-drained kidney-shaped pool behind the gate. “You two still living in this dump?” The shrugs you get in response are enough to remind you there’s a reason you’re an assistant bank manager and not a sleuth. The paycheck.

As if planned and not a coincidence, the sleuths take up stride beside you and join your journey toward the diner. And you’re glad for the company, as Bob listing all the horror-inducing things about that pink apartment building keeps your spirits up.

It’s well before the bank opens, but when you pass the town square there’s a small group gathered - shouting and bullhorns blaring for so early on a Monday morning.

Even though your timing is pressing to meet Cassie, you can’t help but detour. Squeezing between fellow town residents and shooting your best police captain’s daughter smile, it’s not hard to get to the front of the crowd and see what’s causing all the fuss. But considering the movie theater renovation was now indefinitely on hold, you shouldn’t have been surprised.

Ever since the renovation had been announced at a city council meeting, all the crazies had come out of the woodwork. Historians with their own opinions and businesses with their own agendas. But the loudest out of all the chatter had been the relentless public discourse between Amy Albert (CEO of Albert Electronics, supporting half the jobs in town) and Hazel Groveman (local historian and environmentalist).

You’d seen the posters and mail inserts for months. Albert wanting nothing more than to put up a giant cineplex that would bring in more jobs, more visitors, more money. And Groveman preaching nothing but the importance of preserving history. There was a rumour that Thomas Edison himself had seen a flick or two back when it was just a measly nickelodeon.

You know that rumor is bullshit and your great granddad made it up during a drunken night at the station, but Hazel Groveman isn’t privy to your Thanksgiving conversations.

Up on the erected stage, the two women stand ferociously, already shouting at each other before anyone’s morning coffee sets in. Groveman pushes her greying bush of hair from her face as she accuses Albert of petty crimes. Everyone knows Albert Electronics was mad the restoration was chosen over the cineplex. Her competition yells through glossed lips that Groveman massively underestimated the cost of the restoration and the money isn’t gone, the city simply couldn’t face the embarrassment of needing more money. It’s ugly, the way they go for each others throats verbally.

Beside you, both Bob and Mickey are fidgeting, wishing they had ditched you to head to the diner instead of watching this blood bath.

Tearing your eyes from the public fight, you notice Vaughn Carmichael standing off to the side. This definitely isn’t his office and surely he has better things to do on a work day. But he observes the two women with mild interest and a sleazy smile, making your skin crawl at whatever perverted pleasure he’s getting from watching. What a creep.

You shoot his assistant Natasha a smile - what an angel to keep that job - before realizing you’re definitely running late. The two women are still out for blood as they fight over what should happen now that the city can’t fund the restoration. Your stomach turns and you grab the men by their jackets to leave.

This is why you’re up before noon on your day off. You’re going to find that money.

When your friend’s shiny hair and wide smile are in view, that feeling of hope returns. You’re going to get Jake Seresin to talk. You’re going to figure this out. You’re going to find that money and save the town and your job and finally buy that Kinks album.

And it all comes down to the one-size-too-small v-neck that Cassie picked out especially for today.

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weaponizedvirtue · 1 year

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The Face I Hide Behind, Pt. 1 {Peaky Blinders}

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader

Summary: You met Thomas Shelby as Eli Carter, your hair shorn short, your chest bound, the Royal Engineers crest proudly adorning your uniform. You find him again as discarded Marie Tillerson, a woman shamed but remembered.

Notes: I discovered recently that many woman enlisted in the world wars disguised as men. It made me wonder what being in a high-stress environment like the tunnels would be like as a woman, especially if you were trying to hide that secret from someone like Tommy. Soft Tommy, implied romance, reader can be viewed as gender fluid or female with gender norms defied.

Part two can be found here.

"Carter?"

You know that voice. Like the back of your own hand, you know that voice. You turn sharply and sure enough, pale blue eyes and squared shoulders stoop to meet your own.

"Shelby. Jesus, haven't seen you in awhile."

He lifts his eyebrows at that, his gaze still piercing through you like a spotlight. You’d almost forgotten how unyielding the man’s focus could be. His silence says more than he does, shouting and cursing at you even when he won’t. You rock back onto your heels, gesturing behind you with a shake of her thumb. You know what comes next, know what it looks like just before the dog bites, and your knees ache with anticipation.

“I can go. Sir. If you’d prefer.”

Thomas blinks and it cracks the smooth glass facade of his face, something of a tell that you’d always tried to drag out of him before. He considers you carefully, tapping his cigarette back against the palm of his hand before shaking his head.

“You still drink?”

It’s unexpected, though certainly not unwelcome. You nod and wonder if he even knows the half of it, then open your mouth to ask him the same question. But Thomas moves again before you can, his cigarette disappearing between his teeth with practiced precision. He turns, confident as always that you’ll follow without question, then strides back towards the outskirts of town.

“Come on then.”

The Garrison. He's as strategic as ever, it seems.

Your eyes rove slowly across the sign in the window as if there's some other message inside of it. You can feel Thomas's eyes watching you, but he always did know the importance of pacing. When you glance back at him, he opens the door a little wider and beckons you inside with a jerk of his head.

As you enter, you mark each and every detail down in an invisible ledger- three haggard customers, one a good deal younger than the others, four dimmed lamps, eleven tables, give or take, and a waitress sweeping in and out of view as two drunkards sling cards across their table.

It's comfortable, somehow. Lived in, loud enough to be familiar, soft enough to be ignored.

"What'll it be, Tom?"

The bartender leans forward with a smile, running a hand towel across the bar counter as you and Thomas settle behind it.

"Whiskey. And a scotch for Marie."

Your heart jolts to a stop and you turn to stare at Thomas. Normally, you'd have been annoyed at a man ordering you a drink without consulting you on your preference first. But a former sergeant major is a step above the regular smitten drunk at the bar and besides the point-

"You remembered."

"You have odd taste."

You don’t dictate that with a response, your eyes frozen on his face as you try to jumpstart your own heart.

"My name, Mr. Shelby. I didn't think you'd remember my n-"

"You were a special case. And it's Tom." His eyes flick over to you for the briefest of seconds as you open your mouth to protest, a command unto itself.

"You're in Birmingham now, not some hole in the mud. It's Tom."

"Tom. Okay."

The use of first names seems too personal somehow and for a moment, you miss the familial barking of last names and orders and swears that you had become used to on the field. There is a sealed promise of companionship in such actions and a wall of formality to hide behind in the absence of confidence. Here, you’re exposed.

The bartender returns quickly with your drinks, blessedly oblivious to your conversation, before disappearing again. You and Thomas sit in silence, sipping slowly at your glasses, and a loathsome wave of longing rolls through your gut. You’ve missed this. The comfortable camaraderie of someone you know simply inhabiting the same space.

“Thought you had family in Shere. What’re you doing in Small Heath, mm?”

You swallow, a long-stowed explanation waiting to spill from your throat. You want to admit just how poorly the past few months have gone, want to lift a mirror to Thomas’s face and ask if he thinks he’s done any better. You want to search Thomas Shelby’s pockets and pluck out a medal or two, just for penance, just for something to keep for yourself.

But it’s a flood of anger you know he doesn’t deserve and it tears out of you in cascading waves and a crashing tide to consume everything in its path. Instead, you take another slow sip of your drink and focus solely on the taste as it passes over your tongue. The torrent in your stomach slowly settles and you shrug instead, your eyes circling over the lip of your glass.

“Shere is small. People talked.”

They’d done much more than talk. They’d whispered and shouted and scowled and you’d grown tired of it quickly enough. You had stood at the base of your parent’s house and they’d spoken to you like you were a stranger, guarded and grieving as if their child hadn't really come back from the war. And there had been a moment, somewhere between your mother drawing the curtains and your father’s quiet request for you to leave, that your chest caved in on itself. Some part of you had clawed at the thought, screamed and cried and pleaded with him inside the walls of your mind. But you’d given too much of yourself to the tunnels and to a team who no longer considered you one of their one. Some part of you had wondered if it was just a consequence you should have expected.

So you’d nodded, swallowed your pain, and the next train out of town had carried you with it.

“England is plenty big enough. I can go somewhere they don’t.”

You can feel Thomas’s gaze, as pointed as it ever had been, but you can’t bring yourself to check if it’s sympathy on the man’s face or the smug understanding of a disappointed parent.

You both fall into silence again, but the quiet itches against your skin this time, a drenched blanket too heavy to remove from your shoulders.

There are things you’ve meant to say, words that demanded to be spoken, and if the universe was kind enough to lend you his company even one more time, it would have to be enough.

You frown, flinching in nervous anticipation, then down the half glass of scotch you have left. Liquid courage, they called it. Your hands clench around your elbows and you drag in one last breath before turning your body to face your former officer completely.

His chin lifts, somewhere between confidence and curiosity, and he takes a sip from his own, slow but no less invested than your own.

“I didn’t get to say goodbye to you.”

Your hands flutter forward, aimed for Thomas’s own for a fraction of a moment before the muscle memory of the past two years kicks back hard. You hesitate, swallow back the need for physical comfort, and stow your fingers flat beneath your thighs.

“I’d wanted to say goodbye, Tom.”

But you hadn’t. Hadn’t been allowed to say goodbye to anyone really.

Your last day is still hazy in your memory, another battlefield mess where time didn’t work the way it should, where every element of reality bled into the next. You remember a hissing. A warning, half forming in your mouth, and then a flash at the edge of your vision. The earth collapsing around you and someone’s hand, grabbing at your collar and yanking you forward. Dust and grit filling your lungs where the oxygen should be. There was no goddamn air. No goddamn air and the heat and the damp and the darkness crowded around you like smog.

The path leading out of the tunnels had locked shut with a boom and something large and heavy had collided with the back of your head. The surrounding torches had gone out in one quick burst, swallowing up the world in black.

A snap sounds loud and sharp inside of your ears and you startle; the Garrison slides back into place around you. Air rushes back into your lungs, spinning through your bloodstream so fast it makes your head spin. Beside you, Thomas lowers his hand from your face, his fingers slowly relaxing from where they’d clicked together.

“Hmm.” It comes out as more of a burst of air than an actual word. You blink back at him for a moment, breathing in through your nose, picturing your heart beating slower and slower until it returns to an almost normal pace. “General was there when I woke up. Said I didn’t have time for goodbyes. Said ladies shouldn't be on the field and that I was being sent home. Honorable discharge.”

It’s strange, that you can’t remember an explosion or the pulsing moments of fear in all the life or death situations you’ve faced. Yet each and every expression on your fellow soldiers’ faces as you crept from the medic’s tent would forever remain stamped on the back of your eyelids. It had been a moment you’d prayed to avoid- that the war would end with you still standing and the fury and shock and silence that came with an exposed lie would pass with no consequence.

Thomas Shelby could have remained the man across the fire. He could have stayed the companion who shared the little food he had while you were on watch, the friend who had muttered playful barbs and quiet encouragement to you after your first week in the tunnels, the confidant you trusted with all but one secret.

And you could have avoided the look of solemn judgment chiseled into his face as you pulled the car door shut behind you.

“I was angry with you.” There's pain in Thomas's voice as he speaks. His eyes glance down at his glass and he takes a long, slow draw of his whiskey.

The words burn, though you’d guessed at the fact months before. You nod, swallowing back something like a sob, and tuck your chin down sharply.

“Had the right to be. I wanted to tell you. If I’d told anyone, it would have been you. Was just… scared you’d turn me in.”

“I wouldn’t have.”

He could shatter bones with his words, you think.

A quiver of sound sits in the back of your throat and for a moment, you allow yourself to imagine what it would have been like. It still would have been difficult, to hide your true identity for the sake of being able to fight for what you believed in. But you wouldn't have been alone. Would have been protected in the way only sharing one's secrets could ensure.

And there would have been Tom, walking beside you, where before you'd taken the road alone.

You stare back at Thomas, searching for the tiniest hint of a lie, the flicker of a fuse igniting him into cinders. You wait for the rage, for the silent dismissal, but it never comes. A breath of shocked disbelief breaks from behind your teeth and you lean forward into your hands.

"Jesus, Shelby, you always did know how to render us speechless."

"It's Tom."

It's Tom. Even after her fall from grace and the bruising lack of trust she'd placed in him, it's still Tom.

Your eyes flutter back to the man and something like hope blossoms inside of your chest, warring with the shame that churns in your stomach.

"Tom. I'm sorry."

"I know."

He does, you think. His voice is just as quiet as your own, just as soft and calculated as it used to be around the torchlight of your camp. His lips curl neatly around each word, purposeful and focused, and when he looks at you like he does, accusing and forgiving all at the same time, it feels like your cracks seal up just enough to consider yourself solid.

It’s easier after that. The two of you fall into conversation, the kind that you remember from before, where you talk of nothing and everything and the hours pass like seconds. The glasses pile up quickly enough and the walls begins to tilt just a little to the left. The glow of the lamps around you softens the ache in your bones and the room seems to shrink to the bar alone, to the two seats you occupy, and the cocksure figure of the man sitting across from you.

By the time you look around again, the bar sits almost empty, only a straggler or two hugging onto their tables or so deep into their cups that they won't recover till morning.

"It's late."

There's hesitance in your voice, an unwillingness to leave what you've missed for so long. It had been easy enough to convince yourself since your discharge that you were fine alone, happy with solitude, but the idea of losing Thomas’s company so soon is startling.

“You got a place to stay?”

You shake your head, shrugging. You’ve been traveling long enough now that you’ve learned the alternatives to a roof over your head. There are places to go, groups you can fit yourself into if it just means a place to sleep for the night. Summer is on its way anyhow and you always did enjoy being out underneath the stars.

“Right.” Thomas slaps his hand against the counter, his expression resolute. It’s one you’ve grown used to, a look that says something is an order and not a suggestion. You don’t disobey orders. “My place then.”

The offer still isn’t one you expect and you hurry to get to your feet as Thomas adjusts his coat and heads for the door.

“It’s not necessary, Tom.”

He slips out of the bar quickly, his gait focused, and you hurry out after him. Your feet shift unsteadily beneath you as the street tilts slightly, but you manage to slide forward to stand in front of the man. Without thinking, you drag both hands up onto Thomas’s shoulders, as much to keep you standing as it is to give him pause. You blink for a moment, admiring the scratch of wool against your palms, and a chuckle sounds in your ears. Fingers slowly pluck your own from Thomas’s jacket and his hand squeezes around your wrist.

“Come on.”

Thomas’s tone leaves no room for debate, but his stance does, and appreciation rolls slowly back to you. For all his insistence, he’ll still wait long enough for the decision to be yours.

Still, you’re afraid you’ve misunderstood. Afraid he wants more than you can give or means less than you could hope.

“By stay, you just meant-” You roll your balance onto your heels, well aware that the action could have tremendous consequences with the amount of liquor you’ve consumed over the past few hours. “-to… stay, yeah? Not…” The words escape you and heat rises into your cheeks.

“You never were very good with words.”

Your right arm jerks upward almost by habit and you clap your left hand down across your bicep before you can stop yourself. A bark of laughter escapes from Thomas’s throat and a traitorous grin climbs onto your lips. The man’s moods are alarmingly infectious.

“I like numbers better.”

Light from the nearest streetlamp glances off of Thomas’s face as his expression softens; he takes a slow inhale from his cigarette and the tip sends a flare of orange over his cheeks that sets your skin alight.

“Respite from the storm. That’s all I’m offering, Tillerson.”

“Mmm.” You consider him carefully, wishing you had the courage to tell him that he had been just that a hundred times already. Instead, you nod, and follow him home.

It’s a modest flat, smaller than you can imagine Thomas Shelby normally fitting into. But that’s Thomas to a tee, carefully remaking himself to match his surroundings. And it’s quiet and warm and if that’s not reminiscent of home, you’re not sure what is.

“It’s not much. Not yet.”

“But it’s something.” You turn and smile softly back at him, grateful to even somewhere that’s warm and dry.

“Bed’s all yours. I’ll take the floor.”

He sheds his jacket off with a shrug and his knees bend as if to drop out from beneath him. Stubborn insistence rises inside of your chest and you pat the spot on the bed beside you, shaking your head.

“Tom. How many nights have we slept beside each other?”

“This is diff-”

“It’s not.” A yawn forces its way out of your throat and you blink sleepily back at the man. “Come on, mate. It's still me.”

Thomas remains standing for a moment, his lips twisting as he watches you stretch towards the ceiling. Your hand pats the bed again and without waiting for his response, you turn over on your stomach, pressing your face into the sheets. The day’s events catch up to you suddenly, dragging you under in a wave of fatigue; it’s been too long since you’ve found yourself in a safe place and sleep beckons.

Slowly, so slowly you're not sure it isn’t a dream, a weight settles on the bed beside you. A body comes to rest at your back and with a pleased murmur, you fall asleep.

#peaky blinders fic #tommy shelby x reader #female soldier #world war #writing

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peachy-posy · 1 year

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Ride This Out - Vash x Reader (Chapter 1)

Summary: After putting yourself in a dangerous situation, you and Vash have one of your first major arguments.

A/N: Third Trigun fic, woohoo! This was my first time writing something with the 98 versions of characters specifically in mind, so I hope everything feels in character! I tried my best hehe Last chapter will have smut (my first time writing any hhhh), minors DNI!!! Cross-posted to my AO3 <3

Chapter Tags: Established relationship, canon-typical violence, minor violence/injuries, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 3.1k

Traveling with only men is decidedly… not very fun, in your opinion. At least not the ones you're with. You lean your head in your hands, listening vaguely as Vash and Wolfwood argue between themselves in their good-natured, but annoying way. You tuned them out about half an hour ago when the conversation started heading in that argumentative direction.

You miss Milly and Meryl. When the boys start debating and arguing, the three of you have your own conversation, laughing and joking with each other. The insurance girls had been sent to a neighboring town several days ago, promising to meet back up with you three in a week or so. That day could not come sooner.

Your eyes, which have been glazed over for some time now, focus as Wolfwood huffs, leaning back in his chair. Vash does the same, but you don’t feel any real malice between them as usual. Seems like they are finally done.

You glance over at the blonde, feeling his turquoise eyes on you.

“Everything okay, Mayfly?” He questions with a smile, reaching across the table to take your hand.

You smile, even as Wolfwood groans something to the effect of ‘Oh, here we go.’

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I was just thinking about Meryl and Milly,” you answer, prompting a bright smile from Vash at the mention of the two girls.

“Aw, what, we aren’t fun enough for ya, sweetheart?” Wolfwood asks, his tone teasing.

You glance at him tiredly. “Unfortunately not. Sorry.”

He feigns hurt, over-exaggerating his reaction. “You wound me!” Vash chuckles to your side, and you share an amused smile with him. This ramps up the theatrics from the preacher, and he looks at Vash. “How can you lie down and take this? You’re included in that statement, you know.”

Vash shrugs, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles. Your heart flutters at the action.

“Oh, please. Get a room,” Wolfwood remarks. You can’t help but snort, even as Vash puffs up.

As he begins to reply, gunshots echo from somewhere outside: perhaps near the town square. You jump, slightly surprised, and Vash’s hold on your hand tightens as he hears shouting from outside.

You know what comes next.

Wolfwood grabs his Punisher, stretching casually as he stands. Vash stands as well, walking over to you briskly, kneeling at your side. He takes you by your shoulders, locking eyes with you, and calls your name.

“You’ll be okay on your own for a bit, right? Don’t come out unless one of us comes for you.”

“I know the drill, Vash. Be careful,” you reassure, giving him a quick kiss for good luck. He smiles against your lips, able to get lost in the moment, but only for... well, a moment. More gunshots and screams ring out, and he stands up with renewed urgency, meeting Wolfwood at the entrance with long strides.

Vash glances at you one last time before exiting. You blink and the two are gone, leaving you behind in the old tavern. The few patrons that were there as well had gone to investigate the commotion, leaving you alone.

You sigh, unwanted frustration with your situation bubbling up in your chest. Unfortunately, it’s like this all the time. After all, you aren’t some incredible, talented gunslinger. You’re just a healer in love with one.

You slowly stand up, leaving the table you three had been occupying, scrutinizing the room for a good place to hide. After a few minutes, you find yourself a nice little spot behind the bar. It’s not necessarily perfect, but it’ll do.

You lower yourself to the floor, preparing yourself for the waiting game. You wonder how long it’ll take for them to come back today. Fifteen minutes? Thirty? An hour?

You hear more gunfire and shouting in the distance, and you try your best to ignore it for now, despite the uneasiness settling in your chest. There’s nothing you can do for anyone until the danger is over. You know that this general course of action is what is safest for you. You hide yourself away, waiting for the ‘all clear,’ then tend to any and all wounded people who happen to get caught up in whatever happens, a reassuring smile plastered on your face all the while. This is how you do your part in the small group you’ve found yourself in.

It also allows Vash to not be worried about your safety while actively dodging bullets.

You’d worked in a small clinic before meeting the Humanoid Typhoon what feels like ages ago. Your role as a doctor’s assistant made you happy at the time; it made you feel fulfilled and helpful. And it still does!

That said, you sometimes find yourself wishing that you could protect others the way Vash and Wolfwood can. Not that you want to throw yourself into the fray of battle, but you hate feeling so… useless at times like this when the fighting first breaks out. Weak. Like something that needs to be tucked away and protected.

Vash adores that you are a healer. He’ll sometimes sit with you on quiet nights, his fingers rubbing affectionate circles into your hands while he holds them, saying that your hands were made for saving people. You tell him that his hands were too, but he denies it every single time. He says his hands were made for violence. For destruction.

You couldn’t disagree more.

Not when you see all of the good he does, protecting those around him with the very hands he swears will bring destruction to everything they touch.

You are startled out of your thoughts by the sound of a bullet ricocheting particularly close by. You hold your breath, trying to gauge how far away the person who fired it is. You can hear voices in the distance that sound closer than wherever the main incident is. You bite your lip, considering if you are hidden well enough. Slowly, you begin to notice the sounds of… crying?

You know Vash doesn’t want you to put yourself in harm’s way, but what exactly would looking through a window do? Besides, the crying sounds too much like a child for your comfort.

You rise slowly from behind the bar, finding your resolve to investigate. Making your way over to a nearby window on light feet, you carefully peek outside. At first, there is nothing that you can see. Suddenly, though, a small child running down the street comes into view. He’s crying, dust coating his hands and knees. He’s bleeding from a few small cuts that you can see from your current view of him, but otherwise seems physically unharmed.

You gasp as the boy trips, tumbling hard into the dusty ground. He sucks in a sharp breath, bottom lip wobbling. In the blink of an eye, four men concealing their faces with bandanas are upon the boy, one of them grabbing him roughly.

The child shrieks, thrashing in the man’s hold. To your horror, another one of the men points a gun at him. He can’t be more than five years old. The sight of it makes you nauseated.

“You’re gonna regret running, you damn brat,” one of the men rasps angrily at the sobbing child.

“Bring him back to where the other townspeople are. Make sure you don’t lose any this time,” one of the other men orders.

“G-got it,” one of them replies nervously.

“If it happens again, it’s your head.”

It seems like this gang took some hostages when they got here, and this boy escaped. You can’t let them take him back. They don’t seem to have any issue shooting him, as you heard that gunshot earlier as they chased him. Your hands are trembling and clammy, but you know you have to do something.

But with what? You don’t have a weapon. You desperately look around the tavern, and your eyes land on a knife and empty bottles. Acting quickly, you grab one of each, a messy and dangerous plan forming as you go.

All you have working for you is the element of surprise. You can’t fight, but you know where to hit someone to make it count due to your medical training. You just hope you’re fast enough.

You look outside once more, and you notice that two of the men are gone. The other two that remain are talking to one another for the time being, distracted. One holds the child in a punishing grip, surely causing bruises to form on his small wrist. He's wailing in earnest, despite the captors' barking at him to quit.

It’s now or never. You open the door as quietly as you can manage, gripping the bottle. You’ll have to hit one of the men as hard as you can in the head with the bottle, then use the knife you’d pocketed to strike the other. Your plan is to slash the ligaments behind the knee, immobilizing the person. The bottle isn’t very ideal, but you’re worried your lack of skill with a knife will cause you to accidentally lose the weapon in a body if you try to use it for both men.

Unfortunately, you know your plan has little chance of success. Once you attack one, the other knows you’re there. Your best bet is to incapacitate the one holding the child first and to assess in the moment if you can deal with the other. There is a large chance you’ll just have to grab the kid and run as fast as you can, hoping you find Vash or Wolfwood if you make it to the town square. You look down at the threshold of the tavern, trying to will your legs to move forward. Your body is frozen, unable to walk outside.

Suddenly, one of the men turns on his heels, striding back down the street where they originally came from. That gets you moving.

You hide yourself behind the door hastily, praying you haven’t been spotted. Several terrifying moments pass where you wait for them to descend upon you. You can hear your heartbeat thrumming in your head, throbbing in anticipation of the worst.

The attack never comes. They haven’t seen you.

You can’t believe your stroke of luck. You may actually be able to pull off incapacitating a single person, even with your limited capabilities in combat.

You carefully set the bottle on the ground, reaching for the knife you grabbed. You peek around the door, eyes finding the man and boy immediately. The man is yanking the child, trying to get him to cooperate. His back is towards the tavern.

You grip the kitchen knife firmly, trying to control your shaking hands as you emerge from behind the door. You approach as swiftly and quietly as you can, soon finding yourself within striking distance of your target.

Just slash the back of his knee. He shouldn’t be able to chase you if you tear a ligament.

Steeling yourself, you aim for the back of the man’s knee, slashing with as much force as you can muster.

You know you succeeded when he howls in pain, immediately letting go of the child and grabbing his knee, falling to the sandy, dusty street. He is bleeding, gripping his knee tightly, and he turns to look at you with a shocked glare, his eyes filled with malice.

You drop the knife in shock, your bloody hands making you nauseous.

Time to go!

The child is pale, shaking like a leaf as you scoop him into your arms. The man shouts from the ground, and you see him start fumbling around, looking for something.

“Get back here! You bitch!”

You turn on your heels, sprinting as fast as your legs can go. You hear a deafening gunshot, flinching as a bullet hits the dirt nearby. You realize that he had been trying to get his gun, and unfortunately for you, he found it.

He shoots again, but you have already begun weaving as you run, hoping to throw his aim off. The child is clutching onto you fiercely, burying his head into your shoulder. More bullets hit the ground around you, and your heart is hammering wildly in your chest. As you turn the nearest street corner, you find yourself shocked and relieved your plan is working. You just might actually be able to save this child.

Your thoughts come to an abrupt, violent halt when you notice a dark blur in your periphery. A man slams his gun into your head with a snarl, and you are thrown towards the ground. On your way down, you attempt to shield the boy as best you can, wrapping your arms around him tightly and trying to absorb the shock of slamming into the ground. The breath is knocked from your lungs as you collide into the street with a groan of pain. Your head is swimming, but you unwrap your arms, trying to sit up as quickly as possible and get the boy to his feet. He seems relatively unharmed, but terribly shaken up.

“Run! Now!” You scream, and he thankfully listens.

He darts off, right as the man reaches you. You see him start to move after the boy, but you lunge for and grab one of his legs, causing him to stumble with curses spilling from his lips. He whips his head down to look at you, and you do your best to not recoil from his gaze.

“You just don’t know when to quit, do you?” He scowls, kicking you off him. You gasp, hitting the ground once more with a painful thud. Your ears ring, and your vision is blurring.

“Just who do you think you are?” He kneels in front of you, gripping your shirt’s collar and yanking you up. You whimper in pain, your head throbbing as he jostles you.

“I hope it was worth it. You can take his place.”

“I’m not scared of you,” you lie, managing to catch his eyes. Truth be told, you're terrified. But you’d never tell this scumbag that.

He lets out a low, threatening laugh. Chills race down your spine. “Oh, you aren’t very smart, are you?” He laughs again, gripping your collar tightly. “You’re lucky I haven’t killed you yet. I’m still deciding. How about I rough you up a little till then?”

You feel the burn of tears in your eyes, and blink quickly to dispel them before they can form. You refuse to cry in front of him.

You desperately hope the boy is safe. You’re so close to the town square. Vash and Wolfwood should be right near here.

Through your blurring vision and pounding head, you see the man rear his hand back. You shut your eyes tight, bracing yourself.

Instead of feeling the collision of his hand, you hear a sharp intake of breath. You crack open your eyes hesitantly, vision blurring.

Your breath is pulled from your lungs, tears of relief flowing immediately. Because even with blurring vision, you are able to recognize the long, red coat blowing in the wind. Standing behind the man who tackled you is Vash. He’s holding the man by the wrist, and he looks furious .

“Vash,” you breathe out, voice trembling.

The man drops you from his grip, and you fall into the ground, immediately using your heels to scoot away from him. After blinking several times to focus, you take a good look at Vash. You’ve never seen him so angry before. The hand he’s using to grip the wrist of your assailant is trembling with restraint..

“I-I know you! You’re Vash the Stampede!” The man realizes with wide eyes, his face pale.

Vash says nothing, his eyes narrowing. The man continues his nervous rambling.

“L-look, I didn’t… we didn’t know you were here. If you want this town, it’s all yours. We’ll leave.”

You hold your breath, watching to see what Vash does next. Your heart aches for him, knowing that he is bothered by the rumors that precede him. That said, that infamous reputation is pretty convenient right now.

Vash uses his gun to knock out the man without a word. He immediately goes limp, crumpling to the ground as Vash releases his wrist. You release the breath you’d been holding, noting the pain in your head and body, but mostly feel great relief. Vash’s gaze remains trained on the unconscious form before him, his expression complicated. Several beats of silence pass, and you feel yourself becoming slightly anxious. Why hasn’t he said anything this entire time?

“Vash?” You call hesitantly, voice quiet.

Your voice snaps him out of his daze. His eyes flicker up to yours, relief washing over his features as he races forward, throwing himself on his knees in front of you.

“Oh Mayfly, god, look what they did to you,” the words spill from his mouth as he holds you in a bone crushing hug to his chest.

You let yourself be cradled in his arms, disappointed slightly when he pulls back after a moment. He looks pained.

“Your head,” he murmurs, hand gently reaching for your temple. You hiss when his fingers graze the throbbing, painful area. He retracts his hand, the blood on his gloved fingertips making you realize you’re bleeding.

“I am so sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” he whispers, holding you close again.

You furrow your brow and shake your head, trying to ignore the dizziness it causes.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. It was my-”

The words die on your tongue as you hear a familiar voice chattering animatedly around the corner. Both you and Vash turn to face the noise, seeing Wolfwood strolling around the corner of the building nearby, holding a child in his arms. You feel the tension drain from your body fully at the sight of the familiar little boy unharmed.

You hastily stumble to your feet, trying to get over to him, doing your best to ignore the dizziness that overtakes you from the sudden movement. Vash scrambles after you, holding onto you as you sway.

“Easy, easy! I think you have a concussion,” Vash implores, but you press forward stubbornly.

The child sees you, squirming from Wolfwood’s grasp to reach you. With dried tears on his face, he looks up at you with big, worried eyes. You feel Vash’s hand at the small of your back, gently steadying you.

“Well, looks like we found her! Good job, bud!” Wolfwood praises, ruffling the kid’s hair.

A bright smile forms on his little face. He reaches out and snatches your hand.

“Come help me find my mommy!”

#trigun #vash #vash the stampede #vash the stampede x reader #vash x reader #trigun 98 #trigun stampede #peachy writes!

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